Harold Plodder and the Alchemist's Rock
by ThE fLoWeR cHiLd Of ThE 6o'S
Summary: Harold Plodder was only a year old when he survived Moldywart's killing curse. How is this possible? Follow his amazing journey as he attends Pigzits Academy of Magical Education, and learns what it's like to be the most famous wizard of the century.
1. The Kid Who Survived

**Hello world! This is shootforthestars speaking, and this is my first ever fanfic! I hope you enjoy it, and please dont expect me to post a new chapter every day because I, unlike most people, have a life. This story is basically the same as the Sorcerers Stone, I'm just adding lots of humor and changing all the names. So enjoy! Oh and PS I dont own Harry Potter at all, otherwise I'd be rich like JK Rowling! Love ya, JK Rowling!**

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****Harold Plodder and the Alchemist's Rock**

**Chapter 1: The Kid Who Survived**

Our story begins on a street called Pickle Drive. Pickle Drive was very small, but many people lived there, so it was easy to get involved with the lives of your neighbors.

Mr. and Mrs. Durskey of number seven liked to eavesdrop on their neighbors, but preferred to go about their own business without interference. They thought themselves as perfectly normal people, and no one expected them to be mixed up in anything weird. Neither did they.

Mr. Durskey was the president of a company that made hammers. He was a very fat man, whose head seemed to sit directly on top of his shoulders. He was also completely bald; the only large quantity of hair anywhere on his body, other than his fluffy mustache, was located on his armpits, which were not places he generally displayed to the public. Mrs. Durskey was tall, thin, and, unlike her husband, had quite a bit of curly brown hair on her head. The Durskeys also had a son named Spudley who, despite being only a few months old, was already much larger than most babies his age.

The Durskeys also had a secret, but despite living on Pickle Drive, none of their neighbors had found out. If they ever did, the Durskeys didn't know how they'd bear it. They were the only ones who knew about the Plodders, as far as they dared to guess. Mrs. Plodder was Mrs. Durskey's sister, but you wouldn't know it, even if you asked. The Durskeys pretended that they weren't related to the Plodders so they wouldn't be mixed up in anything weird. The Plodders had a small son, too, and the last thing the Durskeys wanted was for Spudley to mix with a baby like that.

When the Durskeys woke up one rainy Tuesday, they had no idea that weird things would soon be happening all over the United States. Mr. Durskey sang "Jive Talkin'" while shampooing his armpits, and Mrs. Durskey wrestled a diaper onto a screaming Spudley.

None of them saw the owl fly past the living room window.

At eight-thirty, Mr. Durskey kissed his wife, decided against kissing his son, as he had just figured out how to spit watermelon seeds with both speed and accuracy, and left for work.

As he reached the end of Pickle Drive, he noticed something unusual. There, sitting underneath the stop sign, was a cat taking directions from a GPS. Mr. Durskey stared, unbelieving. How did a cat know what a GPS was? He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them, to see the cat walking down Pickle Drive, carrying the device in its mouth. It was lucky that the car behind Mr. Durskey then honked its horn, for Mr. Durskey might have sat there all day. He started to drive, determined to get his mind off of the cat.

When Mr. Durskey reached the edge of town, the cat was completely driven from his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual traffic, he noticed many people wearing weird articles of clothing. Brightly colored cloaks, and pointy hats, too. Mr. Durskey hated these cloaks as soon as he set eyes on them. They almost looked like costumes! He tore his gaze away from the sidewalks and stared straight ahead. These must be hobos, he thought, dressing up on the side of the road for money. Satisfied with his theory, he managed to get to work without any more mishaps.

Mr. Durskey's office only had one window, and it was a good thing he always worked with his back to it, because if he had seen the hundreds of owls flying past, he surely would have had a heart attack. Many women down on the street fainted when they saw the owls, and most of their husbands forgot to catch them, for they were transfixed by this unusual event. However, Mr. Durskey's morning was completely owl-free. He made several important telephone calls, yelled at ten different people, and even fired one. He was so satisfied with the morning's work, he decided to go across the street to the bakery and buy a giant cupcake for his lunch.

The people in cloaks were still huddled in groups on the sidewalk. Mr. Durskey had forgotten all about them. Keeping his hand on his wallet inside his pants pocket, he hurried past a large group of the weirdos next to the bakery and went inside. While he waited for his cupcake, he studied the group through the window. They had started jumping up and down with surprising energy, and were even hugging each other! Mr. Durskey paid for his cupcake, and tried to ignore the cloaked people (who were now attempting to hug the pedestrians) as he walked out the door. But try as he might, he could not help overhearing what they were saying.

"Did you hear about the Plodders?"

"Of course I did! Their son Harold-"

"Poor kid-"

Mr. Durskey was so shocked that he walked right into a telephone pole. Fear coursed through him, and his head throbbed. Thinking fast, he took out his cell phone and began to punch in his home number… but then he stopped, imagining Mrs. Durskey's reaction if he bothered her about this. He snapped his phone shut and began walking back to the office, thinking to himself. Plodder was a very common name, and there could be a lot of Plodders with a son named Harold…it didn't have to be _them._

The rest of Mr. Durskey's work day was dull, and he found it hard to concentrate on what he was supposed to do. His head was still throbbing from when he hit it on the telephone pole. Finally, he gave up and took the rest of the day off, bringing his cupcake with him.

He was so distracted that when he walked out the door, he bumped into someone. He opened his mouth to apologize, and closed it again, for the person was wearing a bright purple cloak. Instead, he held the bag containing the cupcake close to his chest. "My cupcake!" he snapped.

A huge grin appeared on the man's face. "Even the Shmuggles are celebrating!" he cried in a squeaky voice. "I knew they would recognize a celebration, I knew it! Good job, sir!"

And with that, he punched Mr. Durskey's shoulder and ran off.

Mr. Durskey rubbed his shoulder, glaring after the man. A complete stranger had punched him. He also thought he had been called a Shmuggle, whatever that was. Thinking he was just having hallucinations from hitting his head, he got into his car and drove home.

As he pulled into number seven, he noticed the cat he had seen earlier. He was quite sure it was the same cat, for it had the same markings on its face, and it was sitting on the wall next to the GPS.

"Go away!" he yelled at the cat.

"You have arrived," replied the GPS.

Mr. Durskey took the GPS and smashed it on the wall. Then he stormed into the house.

Mrs. Durskey and Spudley were in the living room watching the news. As Mr. Durskey entered the room, he heard the meteorologist commenting on the unusual owl behavior, and how shooting stars had been seen flying over the Empire State Building. Mr. Durskey decided that he'd take the chance and talk to his wife.

"Um-Pansy? Have you heard from your sister lately?"

Mrs. Durskey whipped her head around and glared at him. He cringed.

"No, I haven't!" she snapped. "Why?"

"Well-a lot of funny things-owls-cloaked people-shooting stars-thought it had something to do with her…"

Mrs. Durskey glared at him some more. She seemed to know he had not finished. He swallowed.

"Uh-what's her son's name again?"

"Harold," she snapped, turning back to the TV. "Never liked that name."

Mr. Durskey swore under his breath. A few moments later, Spudley spoke his first word, and it happened to be the one Mr. Durskey just said.

It was then they decided it was time to go to sleep.

Mr. Durskey looked out the window before climbing into bed. The cat was still there, staring down the street, waiting. As Mr. Durskey fluffed his pillow, his mind was racing…what was going on? Why were these things happening? When would it all end? But of course, he consoled himself, it seemed like it was the Plodders' problem, it had nothing to do with _them…_

Of course, we all know he was wrong.

The cat sat motionless on the wall, staring down the street. For hours, long after Mr. Durskey finally fell asleep, it sat, staring, waiting…

There was a small pop, and a man appeared on Pickle Drive.

If Mr. Durskey had seen this man on his street, he would have had a heart attack, for this man was the most unusual out of all the unusual people he had ever seen in his life. He seemed to be immensely old, for he had a long, braided silver beard along with long, silver hair that was pulled back in a ponytail. His nose looked crooked, as though it had been broken. A pair of half-moon glasses rested in front of his electric blue eyes. He wore robes like the people Mr. Durskey had seen, but his were, by far, the most outrageous. They looked like they had been tie-dyed rainbow. A gold chain hung around his neck, with a rainbow peace sign hanging off the end. On his feet, he wore pink bunny slippers. This man's name was Albert Dunderbore.

The cat didn't even twitch a whisker when Dunderbore appeared, but remained still, watching him. Dunderbore reached inside his tie-dye cloak and pulled out what looked like a tiny silver boomerang. Grinning, he tossed it in the air. The boomerang immediately flew towards the nearest street lamp as though it were drawn to it, and with a loud crash, broke the light inside it. Then it flew to the next street lamp, and the next, until every single light on the street had gone out. Surprisingly, not one person in any of the houses looked out their windows to find the source of the noise. It was as though they had not heard the loud crashed as the lights broke.

Dunderbore caught the boomerang and put it back inside his robes. He walked over to where the cat sat on the wall of number seven and leaned up against a tree.

"Good evening, Professor McGummable."

He looked at the cat, but the cat was gone. In its place was an extremely strict-looking woman with square glasses and a frown. Her hair was wrapped up in a tight bun, and she wore green robes.

"How did you-"

"It was the way you were sitting," Dunderbore replied. "Never, in my extremely interesting life, have I seen any cat sit so stiffly."

"It's not as easy as it looks," snapped Professor McGummable. "You try sitting here all day!"

"Oooh, a contest!" cried Dunderbore, and he plopped down on the wall. After a few moments he looked up. "This is easy! Sit down, sit down, a bag of Twizzlers to the one who wins!"

"What the heck are Twizzlers?" McGummable was getting annoyed.

"They're a type of Shmuggle sweet. I love them!" And with that, Dunderbore reached into his robes, pulled out a Twizzler, and shoved it in his mouth.

"That's enough, Dunderbore!" yelled Professor McGummable. "I bet you had enough of those already. How many parties did you attend today?"

"Too many," mumbled Dunderbore, stifling a burp.

"Everybody's being completely irresponsible, doing all these crazy things, even the Shmuggles are noticing, it was on their news!"

She glared at Dunderbore as though it were his fault, and went on.

"It would be just great if they found out about us on the day That Guy disappeared!"

"Yeah," mumbled Dunderbore. "Want a Twizzler?"

"No," she said cooly. "I mean, even if That Guy _did_ disappear-"

"Stop calling him 'That Guy', it's annoying. Call him buy his true title: Moldywart."

Professor McGummable snorted, trying not to laugh. When she calmed down, she said, "But did you hear the rumors? About why he's gone?"

She seemed desperate to hear Dunderbore's answer, as though this was the only reason she sat on the wall all day, to find out if the rumors were true.

"They're saying-that Moldywart went to find the Plodders-they're saying-that Millie and Jimmy Plodder are-they're-_dead."_

"Yup," said Dunderbore. Professor McGummable gasped.

"Oh no! Millie and Jimmy…oh, Albert!"

She sniffled and dried her eyes, and went on.

"But-they're also saying-he tried to kill Harold. But he couldn't. They're saying-his powers broke when he tried. But no one knows why."

"Yup," said Dunderbore. He took out his watch. It looked more like a lava lamp than a watch, but it must have made sense to him, because he said, "Hagger's late. He's supposed to bring Harold here."

Professor McGummable mouthed soundlessly. She looked like a fish. Then she swallowed and said, "Here? _Here?_ But-these people are horrible! They have no respect for anyone but themselves. Harold Plodder live _here?_ He can't!"

"It's the only way to protect him," said Dunderbore firmly. "I've written a letter to the Durskeys, explaining. Ah, here comes Hagger!"

He looked up into the sky. A light was coming closer and closer, a buzzing noise was getting louder and louder, until suddenly, a giant electric scooter fell out of the sky and landed on the street.

The size of the scooter was immediately explained when the man riding it came into view. He was twice the size of a normal adult, and easily three times as wide. He had a full head of bushy black hair and a beard to match. He wore a huge brown overcoat with pockets everywhere, and big furry boots. In his arms was a small bundle of blankets.

"Hey, Hagger!" said Dunderbore. "Nice scooter! Where'd you get it?"

"Borrowed it, sir," growled Hagger. "Harold's here. Looks alright."

"You got him out okay, then?"

"Yeah," said Hagger, nodding. "House was destroyed, but he was fine, got him out alright. He was snoring as we was flying."

He lowered his arms so Dunderbore and McGummable could see. The little baby boy was fast asleep. Underneath his black hair, a star-shaped cut was just visible on his forehead.

"He got a _star?_" said Dunderbore in disbelief. "Why can't _my _scar be shaped like that?"

"Can't you make it disappear?" asked McGummable.

"Nah, I'd rather not, even if I could," said Dunderbore. "That scar could come in handy later in his life." He turned to Hagger. "It's time."

"Lemme say goodbye, sir," pleaded Hagger. He handed Harold to Dunderbore, and gave him a very hairy kiss on top of his head. Then, without warning, he started howling, tears flooding down his face.

"Hagger, _shhh!_" hissed McGummable. "The Shmuggles-"

"HAGGER," yelled Dunderbore, "WE-HAVE-TO-BE-QUIET-OR-THE-SHMUGGLES-WILL-HEAR-US! YOU-KNOW-WHAT-WILL-HAPPEN-IF-THEY-SEE-"

"Dunderbore, SHUT UP!" roared McGummable.

Both Dunderbore and Hagger fell silent, though tears still fell into Hagger's beard. Dunderbore carried the baby up number seven's front walkway and placed him on the front step. He then reached into his robes and pulled out an envelope. Carefully, so he wouldn't wake Harold, he nestled the envelope into the blankets. The three of them stared at the little baby for a full minute. Finally, Dunderbore spoke.

"Well, that's that."

"I'd better go, Professor," mumbled Hagger. "Have a good night."

Wiping his eyes with a spotted hanky, he got on the scooter, rose into the air, and was gone.

McGummable gave a dry sob. With a small pop, she turned back into the cat, gave Harold's forehead a lick, and raced into the night.

Dunderbore stood motionless for a moment. Then, he bent down, stoked the baby's forhead, and whispered, "Peace out, Harold." Straightening up, he pulled a stick-like object out from inside his robes, waved it in the air, and said, "_Fixit!_"

The shattered glass from the street lamps rose up into the air, swirling around like a tornado. With a soft _whoosh,_ each piece flew back to where it belonged, and light shone down on Pickle Drive once more. Dunderbore had disappeared.

Harold Plodder rolled over, clutching the letter in one small fist, not knowing he would spend the next ten years being punched and kicked by his cousin, not knowing he would soon be woken by Mrs. Durskey's scream as she went to get the newspaper. Harold Plodder slept on, not knowing that at this exact moment, people all over the country were raising their glasses and saying, "To Harold Plodder: The Kid Who Survived!"

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**Mwa ha ha! How do you like hippie Dunderbore? I kept Hagger sort of the same as Hagrid, cuz I luv him so much! Please review, because a happy writer is a writer with lots and lots of feedback! I NEED FEEDBACK! GRAAAAR! Heehee.**


	2. The Reptile Exhibit

**Hello its me again! Well, duh, of course its me. OMG SOMEONE ELSE TOOK OVER MY STORY AAAAARRRG! Yea, rite. Anyway, here is chapter 2 of my story. Lets see how little Harold Plodder is doing after ten years of misery...(as if we dont already know, lol). Disclaimers: I do not own the cabinet above the refridgerator, 100 birthday presents (I wish, tho), the Zookeeper's Delight, the Brazilian boa constrictor, or Harold's longest ever punishment. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 2: The Reptile Exhibit

Almost ten years later, Pickle Drive was still the same as always. Sunlight reflected off of the silver number seven on the Durskeys' house. Inside, pictures hung all over the walls, featuring a fat boy riding his first skateboard, sharing a giant ice cream sundae with his mother, playing videogames with his father. There was absolutely no evidence that another boy lived in the house, too.

Yet Harold Plodder was there, sleeping, but not for long, for he was about to be woken (once again) by his dear Aunt Pansy.

"Get up! _Get up!_ NOW!"

Harold sat up so fast he smacked his head on the low ceiling. Eyes streaming, he swore.

"_What was that?_" screeched Aunt Pansy.

Harold swore more loudly, grinning in spite of himself. But the grin quickly evaporated as the cabinet door flew open and he found himself face-to-face with his aunt, her face bulging with fury.

"You stop this nonsense right now, _do you hear me?_ I don't want any of your 'funny stuff' for Spuddy's birthday. Now hurry up and get dressed!"

And with that, she slammed the cabinet door shut.

Harold reached under his pillow and pulled out a change of clothes. Spudley's birthday…today was going to be impossible. He put on his socks, pausing to pull a cockroach off one of them. Harold used to hate cockroaches, but now he was pretty comfortable around them, because the cabinet above the refrigerator was full of them, and that was where he slept.

When he was dressed he pushed the cabinet door open and crawled out onto the refrigerator. Peering over the edge to judge how far he'd have to fall, he swung his legs over the side and slipped off onto the floor. It was easy to do, after almost ten years of practice.

"When you've quite finished showing off," hissed Aunt Pansy, "you can make Spuddy's omelet."

She handed him a frying pan, two eggs, cheese, ham, and a spatula, and Harold set to work, promising himself he would spit in the omelet when no one was looking.

Harold was small and skinny for his age, and he suspected it was because he spent so much of his life in a cabinet. He had short black hair that stuck up all over the place no matter what he did to it. His eyes were bright green, and he wore round glasses that had to be held together with Duct tape from all the times Spudley had broken them. The only thing Harold liked about his appearance was the star-shaped scar on his forehead. He had had it forever, and as soon as he knew how to ask questions, he asked Aunt Pansy how he had gotten it.

"In the plane crash when your parents died," she had snapped. "And don't ask questions."

As Harold got older, he realized that there was something funny about his aunt's explanation. If the plane crashed, surely everyone on it would have died? Why was he the only one who survived?

Uncle Herman entered the kitchen as Harold was adding cheese to Spudley's omelet. He sat down at the table and glared at Harold. Harold was used to this kind of treatment, and just ignored him.

He was just about to fold the omelet when Spudley waddled into the kitchen with his mother following in his wake. His brown hair was plastered to his head underneath a birthday hat, which looked tiny in comparison to his fat head and body.

While everyone was distracted, Harold quickly spit into the omelet and folded it in half. Quite sure no one had seen (since his head was still attached to his body), he smiled to himself.

"Where's my breakfast?" said Spudley, as he settled his fat bottom into a chair.

"Right here, Spuddykins," said Aunt Pansy, taking the frying pan from Harold, sliding the omelet onto a plate, and handing it to her son. Meanwhile, Spudley was counting his presents.

"Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven…" his face fell.

"Sweetie, you've forgotten Aunt Marcie's present," said Aunt Pansy.

"Okay, ninety-eight then," mumbled Spudley, his face red. Harold shoved his bacon in his mouth as fast as he could in case Spudley threw a tantrum, but Aunt Pansy came to the rescue.

"How about we buy you two more presents today, hmm? Then you'll have one hundred presents! How about that, Spuddy?"

Uncle Herman grumbled to himself. Harold knew that he loved Spudley, but hated throwing money out the window.

"Okay," Spudley agreed. He began to wolf down his omelet, and Harold had to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

The phone rang. Aunt Pansy went to answer it while Uncle Herman and Harold watched Spudley open a Nintendo Wii, three skateboards, a pair of boxing gloves, twenty-one videogames, and a model rocket. He was just unwrapping a box full of baseball cards when Aunt Pansy came back, looking angry.

"Mrs. Pea's broken her leg. She can't take him," she snapped, pointing at Harold. "Now what are we supposed to do?"

"_What?_" cried Spudley.

"YIPPEE!" yelled Harold. Uncle Herman smacked him with his rolled up newspaper, but he didn't care. He hated going to Mrs. Pea's house. It smelled like boiled eggplant, and the only thing he ever did there was look at the countless photos of Mrs. Pea's many generations of guinea pigs.

"We could call Marcie…" Uncle Herman suggested.

"Don't be stupid, she hates him!"

"You could just leave me here," said Harold.

Aunt Pansy looked like she had just swallowed an entire bag of Sour Patch Kids.

"Only to come back and find the house in ruins?" she hissed.

"How the heck am I going to blow up the house if I don't have a bomb?" said Harold indignantly, but no one listened.

"I guess we could take him with us…" Aunt Pansy began, but at that moment, Spudley started to fake-cry.

"I D-DON'T WANT H-HIM TO C-COME!" he wailed.

"Well too bad, Spuddykins! They _have_ to bring me!" Harold whispered to himself. And he was right. The Durskeys could find no alternative but to bring him along.

As Spudley was getting into the car with his best friend, Patrick Smolkiss, Uncle Herman pulled Harold aside.

"Now you listen to me," he growled, "any of your 'funny stuff', anything at all, and I'll lock you in that cabinet until the end of time!"

"I'm not going to do anything," said Harold, exasperated. "_Really…_"

But Uncle Herman didn't believe him. No one ever did.

One time, Aunt Pansy had gotten tired of looking at Harold's messy hair, so she cut it off herself. Harold had spent that night agonizing over how the kids in school would laugh at him the next day, only to find out that it had all grown back overnight. Another time, she had been trying to force him into a disgusting pair of Spudley's old jeans, but the more she tried to shove them on, the smaller they became, until they were small enough to fit one of Spudley's action figures. And at school, Spudley and his gang were chasing Harold around the building, and Harold had only tried to jump behind the mailbox to hide, but found himself stuck up a tree instead. He had no idea how any of these weird things happened, but they were certainly not going to happen today if he could help it.

During the car ride, Uncle Herman was complaining to Aunt Pansy. Some of his favorite things to complain about were Harold, taxes, Harold, shampoo prices, Harold, and the government. Today, it was scooters.

"…kids riding those things like they're motorcycles, those scooters are just as bad, in my opinion…"

"I had a dream about a scooter once," said Harold conversationally. "It was flying."

Aunt Pansy screamed and Uncle Herman swerved to avoid hitting a fire hydrant. Purple in the face, he turned around in his seat to face Harold and bellowed, "SCOOTERS DON'T FLY!"

Spudley and Patrick snorted.

"I _know_ they don't fly," snapped Harold. "It was just a dream, for God's sake."

Uncle Herman growled like an angry hippopotamus, but kept driving.

When they finally reached the zoo, Uncle Herman bought Spudley and Patrick each an ice cream sundae, and because the woman asked what Harold would like before they could leave, bought him a cherry popsicle.

Harold had the best morning he'd ever had in a long time. After watching the gorillas scratch their behinds and realizing that they looked a lot like Spudley, they went to get some lunch. At the food court, Spudley threw a tantrum because his "Zookeeper's Delight" didn't have enough hot fudge. Uncle Herman bought him another one and Harold was allowed to finish the first.

He should have known it was all too good to last.

Spudley and Patrick were getting bored with the mammals in the zoo, so Uncle Herman led the group towards the reptile exhibit. It was nice and cool after the hot sun outside, and there were lizards and snakes as far as the eye could see. Spudley soon found what looked like the biggest snake in the zoo, but it was fast asleep.

"Dad, make it _do _something," he whined.

Uncle Herman knocked on the glass. The snake didn't move.

"Do it again!" Spudley ordered. Uncle Herman banged the glass with both fists. The snake finally looked up, surveyed Spudley, and deliberately turned around so its back was facing the group.

"Hey!" yelled Spudley. "You look at me RIGHT NOW!"

"Spudley, honey, there's a giant alligator over here," called Aunt Pansy from across the exhibit. Spudley immediately abandoned the snake and waddled over to his mother. Patrick and Uncle Herman followed.

Harold stayed by the snake, feeling sorry for it. His sympathy turned to shock as the snack turned around, stared at Spudley, who was banging on the alligator's habitat, and turned to look at Harold. And then…

_It winked._

Harold stood frozen for a moment, and then, checking to make sure no one was looking, he winked back.

The snake pointed its tail at Uncle Herman and Spudley and rolled its eyes, giving Harold a look that plainly said, _That happens all the time._

"You must hate that," murmured Harold. "I know I would if it were me."

The snake nodded its head enthusiastically.

"So…where do you come from, anyway?" asked Harold, wondering why he was talking to a snake.

The snake pointed its tail at a sign on the glass. Harold looked at it.

_Boa Constrictor, Brazil_

"Oh, wow! Brazil! Is it nice there? I'll bet its nicer than here," he added mutinously.

The snake rolled its eyes again, pointing more forcefully at the sign, and Harold read on; the snake was bred in the zoo.

"Oh, you've never been there," he said. "Sorry about that."

The snake blinked and nodded. Suddenly it looked up, startled, as Patrick shouted, "SPUDLEY! MR. DURSKEY! LOOK AT THE SNAKE! ITS MOVING!"

Spudley raced back across the exhibit and knocked Harold to the floor, staring greedily at the snake, Patrick joining him. One second, they were both pressing their grubby hands on the glass, the next second, leaping backwards in terror. Spudley actually tripped over his feet and fell on the ground.

The glass to the snake's habitat seemed to have disappeared. The snake was slithering across the floor, hissing quietly and snapping playfully at Spudley's heels. When it passed Harold, he could've sworn he heard a voice hissing, "_Brazil, here I come…thanksss, Harold."_

Uncle Herman and Aunt Pansy rushed Spudley and Patrick out of the reptile exhibit, promising they would make up for what happened somehow, and Harold, who was trailing behind, heard Patrick suddenly say, "I saw Harold talking to it! You were talking to that snake, weren't you, Harold?"

Uncle Herman turned around and gave Harold the look of death, while Aunt Pansy gasped and clutched at her heart. Spudley smirked, all terror forgotten.

Once they got home, Uncle Herman snarled, "Go…cabinet…stay…no meals…" while collapsing into a chair, and Aunt Pansy ran to get him a beer.

Harold lay in his cabinet much later, staring up at a family of cockroaches on the ceiling. He had lived with the Durskeys for nearly ten years, ever since his parents had died in that plane crash. He thought harder than he ever thought in his life, trying to remember…a flash of green light, a high, cold laugh, and a burning pain in his forehead…was that the crash? If it was, where did the green light come from, and who was laughing? Who in their right mind would be laughing while a plane was crashing? He couldn't ask the Durskeys anything, since he had been forbidden to ask questions, and they were the only people who seemed to know what happened.

Sometimes, if he ever had to go with Aunt Pansy while she ran errands, complete strangers seemed to recognize him. A man in a top hat had ran up and hugged him in a shop, and then scurried away before Harold could react. A tiny old woman dressed in bright green waved to him while on a bus. Even a little girl had pointed at him while shopping at her mother. But try as he might, Harold could never get a good look at any of these people. They seemed to just disappear.

At school, Harold had no friends at all. Everyone knew that Spudley hated that Harold Plodder kid with the baggy clothes and Duct taped glasses, and no one liked to disagree with Spudley and his gang.

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**Haha ya like? I do! I am quite proud of myself. Please review or face my wrath! My virtual wrath! Poor Harold Plodder needs to be reassured that people are actually interested in his life so he doesnt fall into the pit of depression and get beaten up by Spudley. :D**


	3. The Stalker Letters

**Hello again. Do I have to tell you who I am? I sure hope not. This chapter is not as funny as the other two, but thats just my opinion. I hope you Harry Potter nutters like it anyway. Disclaimers: I do not own any of those darling stalker letters, the private school, the public school, Spudley's gang, Harold's hippie uniform, Spudley's cane, the second bedroom, the hotel, or the shack. Now READ!

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Chapter 3: The Stalker Letters

The boa constrictor incident earned Harold his longest punishment ever. By the time he was allowed out of his cabinet again, summer vacation had started, and Spudley had already crashed his model rocket, stepped on eight of his videogames, and, the first time out on his skateboard, steamrolled into Mrs. Pea as she crossed Pickle Drive on her crutches.

Harold was relieved that school was finally over, but he wasn't able to escape Spudley's gang, who came over almost every day. Patrick, Dan, Matt, and George were all fat and dim-witted, but as Spudley was the fattest and most dim-witted of them all, he was the leader. The group's favorite game to play: Harold Hunting.

Harold spent most of his time outside in order to escape from Spudley and his gang, thinking about the end of vacation. Next year, he would be going to the local public school, and would finally be able to escape from Spudley, as he had been accepted at Uncle Herman's old private school. Spudley enjoyed teasing Harold about the public school.

"The older kids stuff the newbies' heads down the toilets on the first day," he sniggered. "Want to go and practice?"

"Sure, give me your head," said Harold.

"I meant with _you,_ stupid," growled Spudley.

"Oh, I don't think that's a good idea," said Harold seriously. "My head just isn't _good_ enough to be stuffed down that little hole. Yours, on the other hand…" he made a kissing noise with his mouth "…what a perfect match!" And before Spudley could react, he raced away.

One hot July day, Aunt Pansy took Spudley to buy his uniform for the private school, and Harold was left at Mrs. Pea's. She wasn't as bad as usual, though. Harold found out she had broken her leg by tripping over the guinea pigs' cage (which she had left on the floor) and she was quite pissed about it. So this time, she didn't force Harold to look at her guinea pig photo albums, but let him watch television, and even gave him a piece of chocolate cake.

That night, Spudley marched around the living room wearing his new uniform. The private school's uniform consisted of a bright red collared shirt, red and white striped slacks, black shoes, and a red and white striped hat called a fedora. They also carried canes to smack each other when the teacher's back was turned, which was supposed to be good training for later in life.

As Spudley strutted around the room as though he had just been appointed President of the United States, Uncle Herman said hoarsely that this was the proudest moment in his life. Aunt Pansy, of course, burst into tears, wailing she couldn't believe her widdle Spuddykins looked so attractive and grown-up. Harold didn't say anything, for he feared that if he opened his mouth, he would not be able to hold in his laughter.

The next morning, Harold came out of his cabinet to find that a truly disgusting smell had filled the kitchen. Aunt Pansy was dipping some white shirts into a bunch of containers in the sink, each filled with a different color dye. He went to have a look.

"What are you doing?" he asked, and her eyes flashed (as they always did when he dared ask her a question).

"Making your school uniform," she said.

Harold looked into the sink again.

"Oh," he said. "I didn't know they'd be so…smelly."

"The smell will wear off," she snapped. "I'm tie-dyeing some of Spudley's old clothes for you. They'll look just like everyone else's when they've dried."

Harold seriously doubted this, but didn't dare argue. He tried not to imagine what kind of greeting he'd get when he showed up at school looking like a hippie.

Uncle Herman and Spudley entered the kitchen, coughing and spluttering from the smell.

"Ugh, Harold, did _you _do that?" howled Spudley, squeezing his nose. "What have you been _eating?_"

"It wasn't me!" cried Harold indignantly. "It was Aunt Pansy, I heard it!"

"I _told _you not to have the beans last night!" Uncle Herman complained.

"It's Harold's school uniform!" shouted Aunt Pansy, going red in the face.

Uncle Herman sat down at the table and opened his newspaper, looking extremely embarrassed. Harold joined him, and so did Spudley, banging his cane on the ground.

The mail slot clicked and they heard the distinct sound of envelopes falling onto the welcome mat.

"Get the mail, Spudley," said Uncle Herman, not looking up from the paper.

"Make Harold get it."

"Get the mail, Harold."

"Make Aunt Pansy get it," said Harold. "Oh, wait, don't make _her_ get it, she'd have to bend over and then-"

"_YOU TAKE THAT BACK!_" shrieked Aunt Pansy.

"Get the mail! NOW!" roared Uncle Herman.

Harold jumped up from the table and raced into the hall, grinning broadly. Three things lay on the welcome mat: a postcard from Aunt Marcie to Uncle Herman, a thick, long envelope that looked like a bill, and…_a letter for Harold._

Harold picked up the letter as though it were about to crumble at any moment. He couldn't believe it…who in their right mind would be writing to him? He was clearly unpopular, Spudley's gang made sure of that…he hadn't done anything "funny" at school…yet here it was, addressed so specifically there could be no mistake:

Mr. H. Plodder

The Cabinet Above the Refrigerator

7 Pickle Drive

Salem, Mass.

U.S.A.

The envelope was heavy and thick, made of yellowish parchment, and written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp or address label.

Turning the envelope over, he saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms: a tiger, a dolphin, a hedgehog, and a cobra, surrounding a large letter _P._

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Herman. "What are you doing in there, checking for grenades?" He chuckled at his joke.

Harry slowly walked back into the kitchen, as if sleepwalking. He handed Uncle Herman the postcard and the bill, sat down in his seat, and began to open the envelope.

"Marcie's sick," said Uncle Herman, scanning the postcard. "Must be food poisoning-"

"Dad, Harold's got a letter!" cried Spudley.

Harold had just taken the letter out of the envelope when it was whisked out of his hand by Uncle Herman.

"Hey!" he yelled. "That's _mine!_"

"Why would anyone write to you?" sneered Uncle Herman. He glanced at the letter…and gasped, his face turning from red to green faster than a traffic light. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it had turned whitish-gray.

"P-P-Pansy!" he yelped.

Spudley tried to snatch the letter, but his father held it out of his reach. Aunt Pansy took it curiously, and read what seemed like no more than the first line before turning white like Uncle Herman. She clutched at her heart, looking faint.

"Herman…oh my goodness! Herman!"

Spudley was not used to being ignored. "I want to see it!" he yelled.

"_I _want to see it!" Harold bellowed. "It's _my letter!_"

"Get out of here, both of you!" snapped Uncle Herman.

Harold didn't move.

"_GIVE ME MY LETTER!_" he screamed.

"OUT! OUT!" roared Uncle Herman, and, seizing both Harold and Spudley by their waistbands, threw them into the living room, slamming the door behind them. Harold and Spudley had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole. Spudley won, and Harold bent down to listen at the crack under the door, his glasses hanging from one ear.

"Herman…" Aunt Pansy was saying, "look at the address…they know where he sleeps! Do you think they could be watching us?"

"Watching…spying…they could be following us everywhere!" said Uncle Herman. He had started to pace the kitchen.

"But what do we do?" cried Aunt Pansy. "Should we write back? Tell them we're not interested…?"

"No," said Uncle Herman finally. "Let's just ignore it. They won't write back if they don't get an answer…"

"But…"

"I'm not having one of those in the house, Pansy! Didn't we swear we'd stamp out that ridiculous nonsense when we took him in?"

After he got back from work that evening, Uncle Herman visited Harold in his cabinet for the first time.

"Where's my letter?" demanded Harold, as soon as Uncle Herman opened the door. "Who wrote to me?"

"Nobody," said Uncle Herman. "It was addressed to you by mistake."

"_Mistake?_ That wasn't a mistake! It had my cabinet on it!" cried Harold.

"SHUT UP!" roared Uncle Herman so loudly that a few cockroaches fell from the ceiling. One fell on his head, and Harold was forced to wait as Uncle Herman ran around the kitchen, screaming, until the cockroach fell off and scurried under the stove. Taking several deep breaths, Uncle Herman forced himself to smile at Harold. It looked quite painful.

"Um, Harold…about your cabinet…your aunt and I think that it would be best if you move into Spudley's second bedroom…you're getting too big for this small space!"

"Do I have to?" moaned Harold.

"YES, YOU HAVE TO!" yelled Uncle Herman. "NOW TAKE YOUR STUFF AND GO UPSTAIRS!"

It only took one trip to move Harold's things up to Spudley's second bedroom. Spudley had a second bedroom only to store all of his toys that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. Nearly everything in it was broken from when Spudley had his tantrums and decided to crush, kick, smash, or sit on something. Harold could hear him right now, whining to his mother, "I don't _want _him in there…that's_ my room_…I _need _that room…"

Harold sighed and sat down on the bed. Yesterday he would've given anything to be in here. Today he would rather be in his cabinet with his letter than in here without it.

The next day, Spudley was in shock. He'd whacked his father with his cane, punched his mother in the gut, been sick on purpose, threw the vacuum cleaner out the window, and screamed himself hoarse for hours, and he still didn't have his room back. Harold was punishing himself inside his head for not opening the letter in the hall.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Herman made Spudley get it. After whacking him with the cane, Spudley waddled into the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another, one! Mr. H. Plodder, The Smallest Bedroom, 7 Pickle Drive…"

Uncle Herman gave a cry of fury and stormed into the hall, Harold right behind him. He wrestled Spudley to the ground with one arm while Harold twisted the other behind his back. After a few short minutes, in which everyone got clobbered with Spudley's cane, he stood up, Harold's letter clutched in his fist.

"Go to your cabinet…I mean, your bedroom," he growled. "Spudley, just…go. NOW!" he barked, when no one moved.

Harold climbed the stared, his mind racing. How had the person known he had not gotten his letter? How had the person know he switched rooms? He vowed to get his letter first the next morning…he had a plan.

Harold woke up at six o'clock sharp the next morning. He snuck down the stairs and tiptoed into the hall…he would get the letter first, as soon as it came through the mail slot…he crept towards the front door…

"EEEEEEEEK!" he screamed, leaping backwards. He had stepped on something squishy…something _alive!_

"YEEOOOWCH!" howled a voice just below him.

The hall light clicked on as Aunt Pansy raced to find the source of the noise. Harold looked down…and wished he hadn't. Uncle Herman had been sleeping on the welcome mat in front of the door, to prevent Harold from doing exactly what he had just tried to do, and Harold had stepped on his…well, let's not go there.

Anyway, while Uncle Herman rolled around on the floor, the mail slot clicked open and three letters for Harold fell into his lap.

"Give me-" he began, but Uncle Herman tore the letters to pieces before his eyes.

He stayed home from work that day and nailed the mail slot shut. He whistled "Funkytown" while he worked and yelped at small noises.

On Saturday, no less than twenty-four letters had found their way into the house, rolled up in the egg cartons or stuffed between pages of the newspaper. Spudley was astonished.

"Who the heck is this desperate to talk to you?" he asked Harold.

On Sunday, Uncle Herman sat down in the living room, wearing his bathrobe and carrying a large cup of coffee. He looked exhausted, but satisfied.

"No mail on Sundays," he chuckled. "No more of those stalker letters today-"

The next moment, thirty or forty letters shot themselves down the chimney, flying through the air. Harold jumped on the couch, holding up his hands, trying to catch one…

"GET OUT!" roared Uncle Herman, picking up Harold like a sack of flour and throwing him into the hall. He followed Aunt Pansy and Spudley out the living room door, ripping hair out of his mustache, and slammed it shut.

"That's it! I've had enough! Everyone, pack some clothes into a bag, we're leaving!"

He looked so scary with half a mustache that no one dared argue with him.

When they were finally all in the car (Spudley sniffling because he couldn't bring his Nintendo Wii) Uncle Herman stepped on it. He drove and drove and drove, and Aunt Pansy didn't dare interrupt to ask where they were going. Every once in a while, he would make a U-turn in the middle of the street and go in the opposite direction, muttering, "shake 'em off, shake 'em off" every time. Finally, they stopped at a run-down hotel for the night. Spudley and Harold shared a room, but Spudley was too tired and depressed to do anything but go to sleep. Harold stayed awake for a long time, thinking…

They ate stale Cheerios and butter on toast for breakfast the next morning. They had just finished when the hotel owner came over to the table, looking half-drunk.

"Uh, iz one of you Mr. H. Plodder…we got 'bout a 'undred of theez up at the desk…"

Harold made a grab for the letter, but Uncle Herman yanked him back into his seat. The man stared.

"I'll take them," said Uncle Herman, and followed the man out of the dining room.

Within a half an hour they were on the road again. They didn't stop until they reached the edge of what looked like a giant lake. Uncle Herman told everyone to stay in the car, and disappeared.

"Dad's gone insane, right, Mom?" wailed Spudley. Aunt Pansy had no answer for him.

Uncle Herman came back, smiling, holding a long, thin package and a big paper bag. "Found the best place to escape those damn letters!" he exclaimed. He pointed out into the middle of the lake, where a large, gray rock could be seen. "And this man's going to let us borrow his boat!" he added, as an old man with no teeth ambled up to them and grinned wickedly.

They climbed into a little rowboat, and Uncle Herman rowed towards the island. It has started to rain. By the time they had gotten to the island they were all soaking wet. A tiny, miserable looking shack sat in the center of the rocky land.

Uncle Herman pushed open the door and led the way inside. There were only two rooms. Aunt Pansy found some dirty blankets in one room, and used a sheet full of holes to make a curtain between the two spaces. She and Uncle Herman disappeared behind the sheet to their side, and Spudley and Harold stayed on the side with the door.

Spudley took every blanket but one and made himself a bed on the sofa. Harold was left with the last very thin blanket and the floor as his bed.

The storm picked up as the night went on. No matter how much he tossed and turned, Harold could not sleep. In the end, he waited for midnight to come, when he would turn eleven. Spudley's arm was hanging over the side of the sofa, and Harold could clearly see the bright green numbers on his digital watch.

Five minutes to go…he heard the roof creak, and hoped it wouldn't fall on top of him…four minutes to go…maybe by the time they got to Pickle Drive (if they ever went back) the house would be so full of letters he would be able to grab one…three minutes to go…what was that slapping noise outside? Was it the water? And (two minutes to go) what was making that crunching noise?

One more minute and he'd be eleven…ten…nine…eight…maybe he should sneak up on Spudley and punch him, see how he liked it…three…two…one…

BOOM.

The whole shack shook, and Harold sat bolt upright. Someone was knocking on the door.

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**Wow full of suspense rite? I bet! Now do me a huge favor and REVIEW ALREADY! heehee**


	4. The Giant Man

**Hello Harold Plodder fans! Here is the latest installment in my wonderful story! Watch how the Durskeys' parallel universe comes crashing down as a stranger breaks into the little shack, and tells Harold some long overdue information. Disclaimers: I do not own Uncle Herman's pretzel-rifle, Harold's birthday cake, Hagger's overcoat, the final stalker letter, Hagger's SpongeBob umbrella, or Hagger's ability (or unability) to curse Spudley. Have fun!

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Chapter 4

: **The Giant Man**

BOOM. They knocked again, and Spudley awoke with a start.

"Whoa…where's the bomb?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

The sheet dividing the two rooms was pushed aside, and Uncle Herman raced into the room, holding a rifle. Harold now knew what was in the thin package he had gotten earlier.

"Who is it?" he cried, pointing the rifle at the door. "Show yourself or get shot, it's your choice!"

Whoever was banging on the door paused. Then…

CRASH.

The door splintered into a million pieces, clattering onto the stone floor of the shack. In the doorway stood a huge man with loads of tangled black hair. Everything about him looked quite frightening except for his eyes, which twinkled like tiny stars.

The giant stared at the wreckage, and then walked towards a boulder near the edge of the island. With surprising strength, he pushed it across the ground to the shack, entered the room, and yanked it into the doorway, somewhat muffling the sound of the water crashing against the shore.

"There, that's better," he growled. "Guess I don't know me own strength." He looked at them all, and said, "Couldn't make some coffee, could yeh? Its been a rough journey…."

He thumped over to the dusty sofa where Spudley had been sleeping.

"Move over, yeh great watermelon," he growled.

Spudley yelped and ran to try and hide behind his mother, failing dismally. Aunt Pansy was crouching behind Uncle Herman, clutching his shoulders.

"Hey, there yeh are, Harold! Didn't see yeh there!" he cried, his face breaking into a kind smile. "Last time I saw you, I could hold yeh in one hand! Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh got yer mother's eyes."

Uncle Herman made a weird noise in his throat.

"Get out!" he snarled. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Aw, shuddit Durskey, yeh fat blob o' jelly." said the giant; he reached over the back of the couch, jerked the rifle out of Uncle Herman's trembling hands, and bent it into what looked like a pretzel.

"Lookie here!" he said triumphantly. "I made a pretzel! Looks nice, don't it?"

Uncle Herman glared at him fiercely, but he was shaking. Looking hurt, the giant put the pretzel-shaped rifle in one of his many pockets.

"Anyway, Harold," said the giant, turning his back on the Durskeys, "I wanted to wish yeh a happy birthday. Got summat fer yeh here…it may be a bit squashed, 'cause I think I sat on it on the way here, but I'm sure it'll taste alright."

He reached into a different pocket and pulled out a small box, handing it to Harold. Harold opened it, his fingers tingling, to see a sticky chocolate cake with the words _Happy Birthday Harold _written in green icing. Looking up into the giant's face, he opened his mouth to say thank you, but instead, said, "Who are you?"

The giant smiled.

"O' course, I forgot to introduce meself. Name's Rupert Hagger, the Keeper o' Keys and Grounds at Pigzits."

He grabbed Harold's hand and shook it enthusiastically, which made Harold's whole arm go up and down.

"So, yeh gonna make any coffee? If yeh got anything stronger, I could go fer that, instead, like, I dunno, a beer?"

His eyes fell on the empty fireplace. Snorting, he bent down in front of it, and when he straightened back up, there was a roaring fire. It warmed the room instantly.

The giant sat back on the couch and began emptying his pockets; out came a pot, several small teacups, a package of sausages, forks, knives, and a bag of Dunkin' Donuts coffee. Soon the shack was filled with the smells of breakfast.

Spudley groaned with what Harold knew was hunger; they hadn't had much to eat the night before.

"Don't touch those sausages, Spudley," said Uncle Herman sharply. "The giant may have poisoned them!"

"Hey, that's not very nice, now," said the giant, looking hurt again, "but don't you worry, Durskey, I wasn't planning on givin' him anything. He don't need to be fattened up no more."

Harold snorted with laughter. Eyes twinkling, the giant handed him the plate of sausages, and Harold dug in. The giant took a long drink from his coffee mug, licking his lips.

"I'm sorry," mumbled Harold around the sausage, spraying some on the floor, "but I still have no idea who you are."

"That's okay," he said. "Just call me Hagger, everyone does, don't like the name Rupert much. It's ridiculous. An' like I said before, I'm Keeper o' Keys at Pigzits…o' course, yeh know all about Pigzits…"

"Uh…no, I've never seen a pig's zit in my life," said Harold, confused.

Hagger looked astonished.

"Sorry," said Harold quickly, "but I try not to, you know…it's kind of gross…"

"No, no, no, yeh got it all wrong!" barked Hagger, whipping his head around to glare at the Durskeys. "It's them that should be sorry! I knew yeh hadn't been getting yer letters, but I had no idea yeh didn't know 'bout Pigzits! Where do yeh think yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harold, "Did they study pigs or something?"

"_ALL WHAT?_" Hagger roared. "_STUDY PIGS?_ Now wait just one second!"

He jumped to his feet, seemed to fill the whole shack in his anger.

"So yer telling me…" he growled at the Durskeys, "that this boy…_Harold Plodder_…knows nuthin'…about ANYTHING?"

Harold was offended.

"_Excuse_ me?" he cried, "I do too know about stuff! I can do math, look, seven times eight equals fifty-six…"

"No, no, no! Not that stuff!" yelled Hagger, tearing his beard out in frustration. "I mean, the stuff about _yer _world. _My_ world._ Yer parents' world._ Not theirs!" He pointed at the Durskeys.

"What world?" asked Harold, getting annoyed.

Hagger was beside himself.

"DURSKEY! WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU _DONE_?" he roared.

Uncle Herman face was as red as a tomato. He looked at the floor, muttering something that sounded like "sniddlewibble". Hagger stared at Harold, his eyes wild.

"Don't yeh even know 'bout yer mom? Yer dad? They're _famous_. Yer_ famous._

"Please don't tell me they were pig scientists," Harold groaned, putting his face in his hands.

"THEY WERE NOT PIG SCIENTISTS!" roared Hagger, stamping his foot so hard the entire shack shook. "Yer telling me…you don't know…who yeh _are?_"

"NO!" cried Uncle Herman. "I forbid you to tell him!"

Hagger gave the Durskeys a look of death, trembling with suppressed rage.

"You never told him anything? Never told him what Dunderbore wrote in that letter? I was there, for God's sakes! I saw him leave it! And yeh've kept it from him for all these years?"

"Kept what?" asked Harold eagerly. "What were they hiding?"

"STOP! STOP RIGHT NOW!" screamed Uncle Herman, his face white. Aunt Pansy wailed in fear.

"SHUDDIT!" howled Hagger. "WHY DON'T YEH DO EVERYONE SOME GOOD AND JUMP IN A LAKE!" He turned his back to them. "Harold…yer a _wizard._"

"Now he's done it," muttered Uncle Herman.

"I'm a _what?_" gasped Harold.

"A wizard, and a bouncing good one, too. Just wait 'till yer trained up! And it's _about time,_" he growled, glaring at the Durskeys, "that yeh read yer letter."

He held out a huge, beefy hand. Harold reached out, his whole body shaking, and took the letter that rested in it, addressed to Mr. H. Plodder, The Floor, Shack-On-The-Boulder, The Lake. He pulled out the letter and read:

Pigzits Academy of Magical Education

Headmaster: Albert Dunderbore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)_

Dear Mr. Plodder,

We are pleased to notify you that you have been accepted at Pigzits Academy of Magical Education. Enclosed is a list of all the necessary books, attire, and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Sincerely,

Minnie McGummable

_Deputy Headmistress_

Harold had so many questions in his mind he didn't know what to ask first. Finally he stammered, "What does 'we await your owl' mean?"

"Holy crap, good thing yeh said that," said Hagger, clapping his hand to his forehead. He reached into yet another pocket in his coat and pulled out a living, breathing, slightly ruffled owl, a long quill, and a small roll of parchment. Biting his tongue, he scribbled a note that Harold could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dunderbore,

Harold read his letter.

Buying his things tomorrow with me.

Weather sucks. Hope it's better where you are.

Hagger

He rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, who clamped it in his beak, and threw it out the window as though it were a football.

"Now, where was I?" he said, plopping back down on the couch, but at that moment, Uncle Herman overcame his stage fright and stomped into the firelight.

"He's not going," he growled.

Hagger snorted.

"Oh, really? And a fat Shmuggle like you is gonna stop him? Now, _this_ I'd like to see!"

"What's a Shmuggle?" asked Harold.

"A Shmuggle is a person who has no magical talent whatsoever," Hagger explained. "Fer example, yer aunt and uncle. They're the biggest, meanest, and stupidest Shmuggles I've ever met in me entire life."

"_Excuse me?_" yelped Uncle Herman.

"Yeh heard me, unless yer ears are full o' wax," said Hagger.

"He is not going to that school!" cried Uncle Herman. "We swore that we'd squash that magic out of him when we took him in! We swore it!"

"Well, I'm glad yeh failed," said Hagger.

"You _knew?_" cried Harold. "You knew I was a wizard, and you never said a _thing?_"

"Knew?" shrieked Aunt Pansy, speaking for the first time. "Of course we knew! There was no way you wouldn't be one of those wackos! My crazy sister got a letter just like that, and she disappeared to that nuthouse, coming home every summer with her pockets full of frog eyes, turning forks into mice! I was the only one who saw her for what she was…a weirdo! But for my parents, oh no, it was Millie this and Millie that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

Her chest heaved and her eyes were wild. Taking a deep breath, she went ranting on again.

"Then she met that Plodder guy at that school and they got married and had a happily ever after, and then they had you, and I knew you would turn out to be a crackpot just like them, and finally they got themselves blown up and we were stuck with you for the next ten years!"

"Blown up?" said Harold, once he found his voice. "I thought they died in a plane crash!"

"PLANE CRASH!" roared Hagger, leaping up so suddenly that the Durskeys yelped and ran back to the corner, "How in the _world_ could a plane crash kill Millie and Jimmy Plodder? It's an insult to their memory! Harold Plodder doesn't even know about his own life when every kid in our world knows his name!"

"Oh my God," whispered Harold. "I'm being stalked by magical strangers!"

"That's right," said Hagger, beaming.

"But _why?_ What happened?"

Hagger's face was suddenly full of unease.

"I had no idea how much yeh didn't know," he said quietly. "Dunderbore told me I might have trouble getting yeh out of here, but he never mentioned…" He gulped. "I don't know if I'm the right person to be telling yeh this, Harold, but yeh've can't go off to Pigzits not knowing."

Throwing another glare at the Durskeys, he sat down on the couch and motioned for Harold to do the same. Then he took a deep breath and said, "I guess I should start with…a person called…gosh, I can't believe yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows…"

"Who is it?" asked Harold.

"Well…I try not to say the name much…cause if I do…" he broke off, covering his mouth.

"Why not? Is it scary?" asked Harold.

"Not the name, no," said Hagger, removing his hand. "The _person,_ yes, no doubt about tha', but the name…" he broke off again, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile.

"Could you write it down?" said Harold.

"Nah, never was a good speller…alrigh', just this once…his name was…_Moldywart._" He snorted, and broke into a fit of low giggles that sounded like grunting.

"Moldywart?" said Harold in disbelief. "His name was _Moldywart?_"

"Stop sayin' the name!" gasped Hagger, his face turning red. "Whatever yeh do, don't say it again. Anyway, this wizard started lookin' fer followers 'bout twenty years ago. Got a lot of them…some wanted their own bit o' power, some were just scared…and he was takin' over with them. 'Course, lotsa people stood up to him, but he killed 'em all like he was squashing ants. One o' the only safe places left was Pigzits, 'cause he didn't dare try to take the school, not then, 'cause Dunderbore is the only person That Guy was ever scared of.

"Now, yer mom and dad were a spankin' good witch and wizard…but if That Guy wants yeh killed, yer dead. No questions asked. He showed up in the village where yeh were livin', on Halloween night, when yeh were just a year old, an'…"

He paused to pull a spotted hanky the size of a tablecloth out of his pocket, and blew his nose so loud, it sounded like an overweight elephant.

"Sorry, sorry…it's just so sad…but anyway…That Guy killed 'em. And the real mystery of the whole event…he tried to kill you, too, Harold. But he couldn't. Ever wonder how yeh got tha' scar on yer forehead? That's no ordinary cut, yeh know…yeh only get one like that when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh…an' that's why yer famous. That spell killed yer parents and blew up yer house, but the only thing you got was a scar."

Thoughts and memories were swirling around in Harold's mind. As Hagger finished his story, he remembered his dream of the blinding flash of green light, and the high, cold laugh that had always confused him before…but now, he understood.

Hagger dabbed his eyes with the spotted hanky again.

"On Dunderbore's orders, I took yeh from yer house and left yeh with these gorillas…"

"That's a load of crap," said Uncle Herman, and Harold jumped. He had forgotten that the Durskeys were still in the room. It seemed as though Uncle Herman's courage, or stupidity, had come back. He stood up, hands clenched into fists, and glared at Harold.

"Now, you listen to me," he snarled. "I admit there's something weird about you, but I could probably solve it with a good spanking or two. As for all this nonsense about your parents, well, the world's better off without them, as far as I'm concerned, always knew they'd come to a sticky end…"

But at that moment, Hagger jumped up from the couch, reached into another pocket, and pulled out a tattered SpongeBob SquarePants beach umbrella. Pointing it at Uncle Herman like a dagger, he growled, "One more word, Durskey…I'm warning you…one more word…"

"What are you gonna do, protect me from the rain?" goaded Uncle Herman.

"I'LL DO A LOT WORSE THAN THAT IF YOU DON'T SHUDDIT RIGHT NOW!" roared Hagger. This threat seemed to get through to Uncle Herman, as he scurried back to his corner and fell silent.

"That's better," Hagger collapsed back on the couch, breathing as though he had just run a race. Harold, however, still had many questions in his mind.

"But where did Mold…sorry, That Guy, go? What happened to him?" he asked.

"That's a great question, Harold. He vanished. No one knows what happened to him, although they all have their guesses. That makes yeh even more famous. He was so powerful, so why did he disappear?

"Some say he passed, but I don't believe that. Don't think there's enough human in him to just die. I think he's out there, waitin'. Probably lost most of his powers, too, otherwise he'd still be takin' over. Somethin' about you finished him…maybe not for good, but fer a long time yet."

Hagger gave Harold a look with respect in his eyes, but Harold felt that this was all a mistake, instead of feeling anything close to proud. How could he be a wizard if the Durskeys had been able to bully him without being changed into bugs? If he had once defeated an evil sorcerer, how come Spudley had been able to kick him around like a soccer ball?

"Hagger," he said quietly, "this can't be right. It just can't. How can I be a wizard? You've got the wrong kid!"

"Not a wizard?" said Hagger, laughing, "You think of all the times yeh made things happen when you were angry or scared, and tell me that yer not a wizard."

Harold thought. Aunt Pansy trying to cut his hair…trying to force him into the jeans…Spudley and his gang chasing him…and just a few days ago, the escaped boa constrictor. All of these things had happened when Harold was feeling angry or scared. He looked up at Hagger and grinned.

"Told yeh," said Hagger, beaming. "Harold Plodder not a wizard, that's a good one! Wait till I tell my friends that one! You'll be popular at Pigzits!"

But Uncle Herman was not going to give up so easily.

"I already said he's not going!" he yelled. "He's going to the normal, Shmuggle public school! I looked at those letters, he needs spell books and potion ingredients and-"

"If Harold wants to go, a fat Shmuggle like you ain't gonna stop him," growled Hagger. "That's another good one, stop Harold Plodder from goin' to Pigzits! His name's been down ever since he's been born! Yeh should be proud of him! But nooo, you Shmuggles are only proud of yourselves, and that fat whale of a son between yeh. He's goin' to the finest school of magical education in the U.S., he'll meet kids his own age, and he'll be under the greatest headmaster Pigzits has ever seen, Albert Dunderb-"

"I WILL NOT PAY FOR SOME MAGICAL WEIRDO TO TEACH HIM CHEAP CARD TRICKS!" howled Uncle Herman.

But it seemed he had finally gone too far. Hagger whipped out his umbrella and pointed it at the Durskeys. "NEVER…" he thundered, "INSULT…ALBERT…DUNDERBORE…IN…FRONT…OF…ME!"

He brought the umbrella down through the air with a _whoosh_, pointing it at Spudley. There was a bang like a gunshot, a flash of bright pink light, a loud squeal, and the next second, Spudley was running around in a circle, clutching his nose, and yelling in pain. Aunt Pansy pulled his hands away and screamed. Spudley's nose had been replaced with a hairy pig's snout.

Uncle Herman let out a terrified cry, seized Aunt Pansy and Spudley by the wrists, and dragged them into the other room, yanking the curtain closed behind him.

Hagger fell down laughing with a crash that shook the whole shack. Harold clutched a stitch in his side, choking. When they finally calmed down, Hagger heaved himself back onto the couch, stroking his beard.

"Tha' was great!" he chortled. "But I shouldn't have lost me temper. Oh, well, too late now. Meant to turn him into a pig, but I guess there's already so many similarities there wasn't much left to do. Would yeh mind not mentioning that to anyone at Pigzits? I'm not supposed to do magic."

"Of course," said Harold, grinning. "How come you can't do magic?"

"Well…to tell yeh the truth…when I was at Pigzits…I got expelled, in me third year. They took me wand and snapped it in half, but Dunderbore let me stay as the Gamekeeper. Love that guy."

"You were _expelled?_" said Harold eagerly. "Why? What did you do?"

"We got lots to do tomorrow," said Hagger loudly. "We'd better get some sleep, now."

He took off his giant overcoat and threw it at Harold, who collapsed under the weight of it.

"Yeh can sleep under that," he said. "Don't worry if it squirms a bit, I think I left a few rats in the pockets."

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**Heehee. I just love Hagger. I hope you feel the same way. If you don't, well, I don't care. JUST REVIEW! **


	5. Dragon Alley

**Sorry this chapter took so long to post. It was just soooo loooong! Blah! O well, now here it is! Follow Harold and Hagger's trip to Dragon Alley, where Harold finally realizes that the wizarding world is real. Disclaimers: I do not own Twalleons, Fickles, Sknuts, Hagger's latest knitting project, The Squeaky Cauldron, vault eight million, seven hundred sixty thousand, five hundred and fifty-four, robes from Miss Falcon, an Olivehander wand, or a hot dog. Heehee...READ!

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Chapter 5: Dragon Alley

When Harold woke up the next morning, he kept his eyes shut tight, even though he could see through his eyelids that it was light out.

"It was a dream," he told himself firmly. "I dreamed a giant named Hagger came to take me to a magic school called Pigzits. None of that really happened. When I open my eyes I'll be back in my cabinet."

There was a sharp tapping noise.

_And there's Aunt Pansy banging on the door, _he realized unhappily. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream….

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Alright, _alright!_ I'm getting up! Jeez!"

He opened his eyes and tried to sit up, finding it hard because of the heavy overcoat on top of him. When he finally was able to push it off, he saw Hagger sleeping on the couch, snoring, and found the source of the tapping noise. An owl was hitting its foot against the window of the shack, a newspaper in its beak.

Harold tripped over his feet from trying to get up so fast. He felt as though someone had lit fireworks inside of him. He ran over to the window and lifted it open. The owl soared inside, dropped the newspaper onto Hagger's face, who snorted but didn't wake up. The owl then dived down to the floor and began to attack Hagger's coat.

"Hey, don't do that…you're ripping his coat…"

Harold moved his hand toward the owl to push it off, but it snapped its beak at him, squawking angrily.

"Hagger!" said Harold loudly. "The owl's ripping your coat apart!"

"Well don't just stand there, pay him!" grunted Hagger.

"Pay him?" said Harold incredulously. "Pay him with what? I don't have any money!"

"There's money in one o' me coat pockets," said Hagger.

Harold carefully extended his hand towards the coat, and the owl got out of the way as he began to search the pockets. Finally, he found one on the inside that had coins, but not coins he had ever seen before.

"What currency is this?" asked Harold, trying to ignore the owl's impatient tapping of its foot.

"Give him five Sknuts," said Hagger, sitting up on the couch and rubbing his eyes. "The little bronze ones."

Harold counted out five Sknuts, and the owl held out its leg. A small leather pouch was attached to it. Harold dropped the coins in the pouch, and the owl hooted its thanks as it flew back out the window.

Hagger stood up and gave an enormous yawn, stretching his arms so high that they touched the ceiling. "We'd better go, Harold, lotsa stuff to do today, gotta get up to Boston and buy all yer school stuff."

Harold put the extra coins back in Hagger's pouch, feeling as though someone had just snuffed out the fireworks.

"Hagger," he said quietly, "I don't have any money. How am I supposed to buy school supplies if I'm broke? And Uncle Herman won't pay for anything, you heard him last night!"

"Oh, yeh got nuthin' to worry about," said Hagger, grinning. "Do yeh think yer parents died and left yeh nuthin'?"

"But you said their house was destroyed!"

"They didn't keep it in their house, Harold! First place to go is Stringotts, the wizard's bank. Yeh'd better have a sausage, we're leavin' in a mo'."

"Wizards have banks?" said Harold, stuffing a sausage into his mouth.

"Only one bank. Stringotts. Run by goblins."

Harold choked on his sausage. "_Goblins?_"

"Yep," said Hagger. "So yeh'd be crazy to try and rob it. I think there's dragons guarding the high-security vaults. Stringotts is the safest place to keep anything valuable…except for Pigzits. As a matter o' fact, I gotta go to Stringotts, too, gotta get summat fer Professor Dunderbore. He trusts me to do important stuff fer him.

"Ready to go? Come on, then."

Hagger led the way out onto the rocky ground. The sun was shining and the water was calm. The boat that Uncle Herman had borrowed was still tied up at the dock and filled with water.

"How did you get here? There isn't another boat," asked Harold, confused.

"I flew here," said Hagger, climbing into the boat.

"You _flew?_"

"Yep. Flyin' sure is fun. But we gotta go back in this, not supposed to use magic now that I've got yeh."

Harold climbed into the boat and sat down, trying to figure out how Hagger could fly without sinking like a stone.

"Don't feel like rowin' though," said Hagger. "If I speeded things up a bit, would yeh mind not telling anyone?"

"Sure," said Harold, eager to see more magic.

Hagger took out his SpongeBob umbrella and tapped the side of the boat. Without warning, it shot forward like a motorboat. If Harold hadn't been holding on, he would've been thrown out.

"Do-we-have-to-go-this-fast?" shouted Harold over the spray of the water.

"O' COURSE WE DO!" cried Hagger. "YEEE-HAAW!"

He took out his newspaper and opened it up. Harold had no idea how he could read it with its pages flapping in the wind.

"Magical-Ministry-messin'-things-up-as-usual," he yelled.

"There's-a-Magical-Ministry?" Harold was now finding it hard to articulate sentences, for water spraying over the side of the boat kept going into his mouth.

"YEP!" bellowed Hagger, shoving the newspaper back into his coat and throwing his hands up in the air. "THEY-WANTED-DUNDERBORE-TO-BE-THE-MINISTER-BUT-HE-WANTED-TO-STAY-AT-PIGZITS-SO-COLUMBUS-SMUDGE-GOT-THE-JOB!"

"But-what-do-they-do?" yelled Harold.

"THEY-MAKE-SURE-THE-SHMUGGLES-DON'T-KNOW-THAT-THERE-ARE-WITCHES-AND-WIZARDS!" roared Hagger, as the boat leaped into the air and came crashing back down.

"Why?"

"CAUSE-THEN-THEY'LL-BE-WANTING-MAGIC-TO-SOLVE-ALL-THEIR-PROBLEMS! IT'S-BEST-IF-WE-LEAVE-EACH-OTHER-ALONE!"

At that moment, the boat smashed into the shore, and both Harold and Hagger went flying. They landed facedown on the dock with a loud crack. Hagger jumped to his feet and hurried on, leaving Harold to follow as best he could.

Everyone stared at Hagger as he and Harold waited for the subway. Harold thought it was because he kept pointing at ordinary objects and saying things like, "Wow, look at that, Harold! Yeh gotta give these Shmuggles some credit, thinking up this stuff without magic…."

"Hagger," panted Harold, now running to keep up. "Did you say that there's _dragons _in Stringotts?"

"Oh, yeah," said Hagger, "Wouldn't it be great to have one as a pet?"

"What, a dragon?" said Harold, thinking he had not heard correctly.

"Yeah! I'd love one. Wanted one since I was a kid…ah, here we go!"

The subway had arrived. People stared at Hagger more than ever on the subway, as he took up three seats all by himself and was knitting what looked like a plum-colored tent.

"Yeh got yer letter with yeh, Harold?" he asked while counting his stitches. "There's a list of all the stuff yeh'll need in the envelope."

Harold took the envelope out of his pocket and pulled out another piece of paper he hadn't noticed before. He unfolded it and read:

Pigzits Academy of Magical Education

Attire

First year students will need:

Three sets of plain work robes (purple)

One plain pointed hat (purple) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon skin or similar)

One winter cloak (purple, silver buttons)

Course Books

All students should have a copy of the following books:

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Martha Gottshalk

_Magic in History _by Bertha Bagflop

_Theory of Magic _by Albert Baffling

_Transfiguration for Beginners_ by Eric Switch

_Magical Herbs and Fungi _by Phyllis Mold

_The Beginner's Guide to Potions _by Arthur Mix

_How to Recognize Magical Beasts _by Newton Salamander

_The Dark Arts: A Beginner's Guide to Protection _by Quentin Tremble

Other Equipment

One wand

One cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

One set glass or crystal phials

One set brass scales

One telescope

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

**Parents are reminded that first years are not allowed their own broomsticks**

"And you can get all this stuff in Boston?" said Harold incredulously.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagger with a wink.

Harold had never been to Boston before. Hagger seemed to know where to go, except he was not used to traveling the Shmuggle way.

"How can Shmuggles manage without magic?" he wailed after getting stuck in the subway doors.

Hagger was so wide he made a path through every crowd; all Harold had to do was keep up with him. They passed many Shmuggle stores, but none looked like they sold anything magical. It was just a normal street full of normal people. Was there really a place for wizards and witches nearby? Or was this all just a prank of Uncle Herman's? Uncle Herman never had a sense of humor before, but he hated Harold so much that anything was possible.

"Here we are!" said Hagger suddenly. "This is the Squeaky Cauldron, Harold."

They had stopped in front of a small, run-down bar. If Hagger hadn't pointed it out to Harold, he never would have noticed it. It seemed as though the Shmuggles didn't notice it either. Their eyes slid from the jewelry shop on the left right to the videogame store on the right. Harold guessed that only he and Hagger knew it was there. Before he could ask Hagger if this was true, they had gone inside.

It was dark and unkempt inside. A couple of old women sat at a small round table, drinking wine that shot bubbles through the air. A small man with a purple top hat was talking to the bartender, who was completely bald and looked as though he had fake teeth. The buzz of voices stopped as Hagger entered the bar. Everyone seemed to know him, waving and saying, "Hey, Hagger!", and the bartender reached for a glass saying, "The usual, Hagger?"

"Not today, Ted. I'm on Pigzits business at the mo'," said Hagger, patting Harold on the shoulder so hard his knees buckled. Grabbing a chair to keep himself from collapsing, Harold looked around the bar at the faces that had suddenly gone from curious to astonished.

"Oh my God!" cried Ted, leaping over the counter with surprising agility. "It's Harold Plodder!" He ran up to Harold and shook his hand enthusiastically, saying, "Welcome to the Squeaky Cauldron!"

There came the sounds of chairs scraping on wood, and a line of people formed in front of Harold.

"Dora Smockford, Mr. Plodder, I can't believe I'm finally meeting you!"

"You did a great job defeating That Guy, Harold!"

"Can I have your autograph? Please? _Please?_"

"Harold, nice to meet you, I'm Nicholas Wiggle, can't tell you how happy I am to see you."

"Hey, I know you!" cried Harold, and Nicholas Wiggle dropped his glass in excitement. "You bowed to me in a store once!"

"You remember!" Wiggle yelled, tears leaking out of his eyes. "You hear that, people?" he called to the others in the bar, "he remembers that I was stalking him!"

A young man shuffled forward, looking extremely nervous. His hands were shaking.

"Professor Quiddle!" cried Hagger, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "He'll be one o' yer teachers at Pigzits, Harold."

"Pl-Pl-Plodder," stammered Quiddle, taking Harold's hand. "I-I-I'm so happy to f-f-finally m-meet you. I-I teach Defense Against the D-D-Dark arts at Pigzits."

"Wow, that's great," said Harold uncomfortably.

As Quiddle moved away, the crowd surged forward again, but Hagger shielded Harold from the eager hands and steered him towards a small door that Harold guessed led to a courtyard.

"No, no, that's quite enough!" said Hagger loudly as Dora Smockford tried to grab Harold's hand again. "We gotta go, gotta get Harold's school things now." Pushing open the door, he shoved Harold through it and slammed it shut, breathing heavily.

"Well," he said, smiling, "didn't I tell yeh that you were famous?"

"Is everyone going to act like that?" said Harold, massaging his hands. "And why was that Quiddle guy so terrified?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Hagger, examining a brick wall in the courtyard. "He's always been terrified, I think he's even scared of his own subject."

Hagger pulled out his SpongeBob umbrella and began counting bricks above a trash can that was leaning against the wall.

"Right, stand back now, Harold." he said, raising the umbrella. Harold scrambled backward, and Hagger tapped a brick three times with the tip of the umbrella. The brick started to shake, and without warning, there was an earsplitting roar that seemed to come from the wall itself. The brick burst into flame, and soon the other bricks were on fire. When the smoke cleared, Harold could see an archway in the wall that had not been there before.

"Welcome," said Hagger, stuffing his umbrella back in his coat, "to Dragon Alley!"

Harold gaped at the wall stupidly, and Hagger had to give him a little push to get him to start walking forward. He turned around just in time to see the wall burst into flame again, and the archway disappear.

They walked along a long cobblestone street with shops lining either sides. Harold turned his head this way and that, looking like a satellite dish. He wished could see everything at once; the shops and their signs, the things on display in the windows or outside, and the people themselves. A slightly fat woman was yelling at the cashier in the Apothecary, and as Harold walked by, he could hear her shouting, "Are you _crazy?_ I am _not_ paying sixteen Fickles for an ounce of dragon liver…." They passed another shop, this one called Skylops Owl Emporium, and several boys Harold's age had their faces pressed against the window of Quality Quippish Equipment, whispering, "Look at that-the Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand…." Finally, they stopped in front of a gigantic white building that towered over the other shops. Something was standing next to its bronze doors….

"Welcome to Stringotts," said Hagger. "And I see you've seen yer first goblin."

Harold stared. The goblin was about a head shorter than him, and had very long fingers. It bowed as they entered. Now they faced a second pair of doors, and as Harold looked closely, he could see words engraved upon them:

_LISTEN UP, MAGICAL STRANGER, YOU BETTER NOT STEAL FROM THE BANK OF STRINGOTTS, BECAUSE IF YOU DO, WE'LL CATCH YOU, AND YOU'LL BE SORRY. SO WATCH IT!_

"That's not very poetic," said Harold.

"Yeah, well, yeh don't want to mess with goblins, Harold." said Hagger.

The doors opened, and now they were in a long hall made entirely of marble. Hundreds of goblins were sitting at long counters, examining different coins and jewels, or else scribbling madly in giant books. Hagger strode up to a smaller counter where a single goblin was writing on a piece of paper.

"Uh, hey there," said Hagger, and the goblin looked up. "We've come to get some cash from Harold Plodder's safe."

"Do you have his key?" asked the goblin in a bored voice.

"Um…hold on a sec'," said Hagger, and he started dumping the contents of his pockets onto the counter, which included a bag of cheese, several red marbles, and a box of cat treats. The goblin rolled his eyes. Finally, Hagger grinned and pulled out a tiny golden key. The goblin took it and examined it closely, saying, "Yep, that's the right key. Is that all?"

"Nope." said Hagger, puffing out his chest and pulling an envelope out of his pocket. "Professor Dunderbore wants me to get the you-know-what from vault eight million, seven hundred sixty thousand, five hundred and fifty-four."

The goblin read the letter, and then folded it back up. "Alrighty then," he said. "I'll call someone to take you down to the vaults." He handed Hagger the letter, turned around, and shouted, "SPLICKHOOK!"

Another goblin hurried forward. Hagger turned to follow him, shouting over his shoulder, "O', and by the way, yeh can keep that stuff, I don't need it." Harold glanced back to see the goblin at the counter groan.

"What's the you-know-what-" Harold began, but Hagger cut him off.

"Can't tell yeh that, Harold, I'll get fired! Its very secret stuff."

Splickhook held open a door that led to a stone passageway with flaming torches hanging every few yards on the walls. He whistled loudly, and a small wagon came hurtling down the tracks and screeched to a stop next to the group. They all climbed in (Hagger having to sit on the end with his butt hanging over the edge) and the wagon shot forward. Hagger gave a yelp and grabbed the sides, but Harold laughed. This was _fun!_ He tried to remember which way the wagon was going, but soon lost track. After about five minutes, they stopped. Hagger threw himself out and staggered over to the wall. Splickhook gave him a look before climbing out of the wagon and saying, "Your vault is here, Mr. Plodder."

Harold watched as Splickhook unlocked the door with the tiny key. It swung open with a creak, purple smoke billowed out, and when it cleared, Harold could see piles and piles of coins. Towers of gold, silver, and the little bronze Sknuts. He couldn't believe all this was his. Hagger abandoned his spot against the wall to help Harold put some money in a bag.

"These gold coins are Twalleons," he said. "Seventeen silver Fickles to a Twalleon and twenty-nine Sknuts to a Fickle, its not that hard to understand." He turned to Splickhook. "Vault eight million, seven hundred sixty thousand, five hundred and fifty-four, now, and can we possibly slow down a bit?"

"No," said Splickhook. Hagger groaned.

The wagon shot forward again, but this time they seemed to be going deeper. The air got colder, and the wind blowing from the speed of the wagon did not help. Finally they stopped. Harold looked at the door, realizing that there was no keyhole in it.

"Stand back," warned Splickhook.

"No problem," moaned Hagger, leaning against a wall. "Think I'm gonna be sick…"

Splickhook tickled the door with his long fingers, and Harold could've sworn he heard the door giggle before it melted away. He leaned forward eagerly, expecting something extraordinary…but the only thing that was in the vault was a small, grimy-looking package laying on the floor. Hagger stumbled into the vault and picked up the package. As he straightened up, he heaved.

"Not in here!" yelled Splickhook, but it was too late. Hagger opened his mouth…and burped the loudest and longest burp Harold had ever heard in his life.

"Ahh, that's better," he said, grinning. "Let's go buy yer things now, Harold."

After a crazy wagon ride later, they stood on the steps of Stringotts. Harold was thinking about how Spudley would react if he ever found out how much money Harold actually had when Hagger interrupted his fantasy.

"Yeh should probably get yer school uniform first," he said, pointing towards Miss Falcon's Robes For All Circumstances. "And while yer in there, I'll go an' get a Wizard's Beer in the Squeaky Cauldron. Helps settle my stomach."

So Harold entered the shop alone, feeling nervous. Miss Falcon met him at the door, a small, chubby witch wearing periwinkle robes and a kind smile.

"Need some Pigzits robes, dear?" she asked, and Harold nodded. "Go right to the back, there's another kid getting robes too."

Harold went to the back of the store to see another boy standing on a stool while a second witch fitted him. He had silvery blonde hair and a pale, pointed face. Harold stood on the next stool, and Miss Falcon started on him.

"Yo," said the boy. "Pigzits?"

"Yeah," said Harold.

"Dad's buying my books and Mom's up the street looking at wands," he said. He sounded extremely bored. "Once all that's done, I'm gonna drag them over to look at racing brooms. Why can't first years have their own brooms? It sucks! Maybe I'll harass my dad until he gets me one. Do _you_ have a broom?" he shot at Harold.

"No," said Harold.

"What? Why not? Do you play Quippish at all?"

"No," said Harold, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

"Well, _I_ do. I'd better be picked to play for my House when the time comes. Wish it could be _now_. Know what House you'll be in?"

"No," said Harold, feeling like an idiot.

"Well, of course you don't, no one does, until you get there, but I know I'll be in Hisserin, my whole family has been…imagine getting put in Snufflepuff, I'd walk right out, wouldn't you?"

"I guess so," said Harold.

"Oh my God, look at that guy!" cried the boy, pointing out the window. Hagger was standing there, holding two giant ice creams and grinning at Harold.

"That's Hagger," said Harold. "He works at Pigzits."

"Yeah, I've heard he's some sort of _servant_, isn't he?"

"He's not a servant, he's the Gamekeeper," snapped Harold. He found he was liking the kid less and less.

"Yes, that. Well, Dad told me he lives in a hut by the forest and he's always getting drunk and setting his house on fire when he tries to do simple magic."

"Yes, _well_, I think he's awesome," said Harold coldly.

"Oh, so-ree," said the boy. " Why are you with him? Where's your parents?"

"They're dead," snapped Harold.

"Oh, that's too bad," said the boy, and Harold knew he didn't care. "Who are you, again?"

Before Harold could answer, Miss Falcon said, "Okay, you're all set." Harold stepped off the stool and ignored the boy as he said, "See you at Pigzits, then."

Harold was quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagger had bought him (strawberry with hot fudge and sprinkles).

"Hagger, what's Quippish?" he asked.

"_Jeez_, Harold, I forgot how much yeh don't know!" said Hagger. "Well, it's sorta hard to explain…it's a sport, see, played on broomsticks, there's four balls…don't really know how ter explain the rules…"

"That's okay," said Harold. "And what are Hisserin and Snufflepuff?"

"School Houses," grunted Hagger, sucking up melted ice cream through a straw. "There's four o' them. Yeh'll find out which House yer in when yeh get there, don't worry. They each have their own history and reputation. For example, there wasn't a single witch or wizard who turned evil who wasn't in Hisserin. That Guy was one of them."

After they finished their ice creams, Hagger took Harold to a store called Paper and Ink to get his schoolbooks. Harold had a great time looking around at all the different sizes, shapes, and colors of books piled on shelves that stretched up to the ceiling. Hagger had to yank him away from a book called _How to Make Your Enemies Regret What They Did to You._

"Aw, come on!" Harold complained. "I wanna figure out how to curse Spudley!"

"That's a great idea!" cried Hagger. "But unfortunately, yeh can't use magic outside o' school unless yer dying or something. And yeh'll need a lot o' practice before yeh can do those kinds of spells."

Hagger wouldn't let him buy a solid gold cauldron either ("Didn't yeh read yer list at all? It says PEWTER!") but he got a nice set of scales for weighing ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope to look at the sky with. Then they went to the Apothecary, where Hagger asked the man working there if he had any basic potion ingredients for Harold, while Harold examined a unicorn horn hanging from the ceiling.

"Just yer wand, now," said Hagger, checking the list. "And I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

"A birthday present?" said Harold, feeling overwhelmed.

"O' course, it was yer birthday yesterday, wasn't it?" said Hagger. "I'll get yeh an animal. Not a toad, they're ugly and yeh'll get teased. Not a cat, they make me sneeze really loud and it's embarrassing. I'll get yeh an owl, it'll carry yer mail and everything."

Moments later, they left Skylops Owl Emporium carrying a beautiful snowy owl in a cage. Harold was stammering his thanks so fast he sounded like Professor Quiddle.

"Aw, be quiet," said Hagger gruffly. "It's about time someone gave yeh a decent birthday present. Now, come on. Time to get yer wand."

Harold felt like jumping up and down with excitement. The wand shop had a sign on the door that read _Olivehanders, Makers of the Greatest Wands since the Time of the Cavemen. _The window display was nothing extravagant, just a single wand lying on a fluffy purple cushion. A little bell rang as Hagger pushed open the door, and they walked inside.

It was very small inside, just a desk with a chair behind it towards the back of the room. Lining the walls were hundreds of shelves holding hundreds of narrow, rectangular boxes. Hagger sat down on the single wicker chair by the door.

"Why, hello!" said a voice suddenly. Hagger yelped and jumped off the chair, staggered into the wall, and came crashing back down. There was the sound of splintering wood, and Hagger got back up, his face red, the chair in pieces.

An old man was standing in front of them. He had little hair, and big, round eyes.

"Um…how's it going?" asked Harold uncomfortably.

"Ah, it goes good, Mr. Plodder," said the man. "Yes, I knew I'd be seeing you sometime this year, Mr. Plodder. I see you have your mom's eyes. I remember when she bought her first wand. Ten and a half inches, wooshy, made of willow. That wand was great for Charm work."

Mr. Olivehander got closer, his eyes wide.

"Um, sir…could you blink, please?" asked Harold, getting creeped out.

"Certainly," said Mr. Olivehander, blinking slowly. "Your dad, on the other hand, had a mahogany wand. Eleven and a quarter inches. Bendy. A bit more powerful, and great for Transfiguration."

He got closer and poked Harold in the forehead.

"I'm sorry about that scar," he whispered. "I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen and three quarter inches. Yew. Phoenix feather core. That wand was very powerful…still is…if I'd known what it would do…"

He looked away, and spotted Hagger.

"Ah! Rupert Hagger! Sixteen inches, Oak, pretty flexible, wasn't it? Didn't they snap it in half when you got expelled?"

"Um, yes sir," said Hagger nervously. "I still have the pieces, though…"

"Do you _use_ the pieces?" snapped Olivehander.

"No sir, no no no, I don't use them, nope, I don't," said Hagger quickly. _Liar, _thought Harold, but he wasn't going to rat him out.

"Anyway, Mr. Plodder, we need to get you a wand, now. Which is your wand arm?"

"Um…well, I'm right handed," said Harold.

"That'll work. Hold out your arm…" he took out a silver tape measure and started measuring Harold all over his body, not just his arm. While he measured, he said, "Each Olivehander wand is unique, as each one has a different core. Unicorn hairs, phoenix feathers, and dragon heartstrings are commonly used as cores in wands. Wizards and witches are able to channel magic through almost any magical instrument, but will achieve better results when they use their own. The wand chooses the wizard, you see."

He yanked away the tape measure, saying, "That's enough measuring," and handed Harold a wooden stick. "Try this wand first, Harold. Nine inches, beechwood and dragon heartstring, bendy. Just wave it around."

Harold waved the wand around, feeling embarrassed when nothing happened. Olivehander yanked the wand away and replaced it with another one.

"Never mind, try this one…maple, phoenix feather, seven inches…"

Harold waved the wand, but Olivehander snatched it away again.

"No no no! How 'bout this? Ebony and unicorn hair, eight inches…?"

Harold waved and waved and waved, feeling frustrated. On the contrary, Olivehander was delighted as each wand didn't work, saying, "Ha ha, tricky customer, eh? Don't worry, we'll find a wand for you, even if we have to go through this whole blasted shop…Try this one, eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather core, nice and lithe."

Harold took the wand, feeling a sudden warmth in his hand. He waved the wand in the air, and a rush of multicolored sparks shot out the end. They formed themselves into three words: _I choose you._

"YEAH, HAROLD!" roared Hagger, clapping his hands, and Olivehander took the wand and put it back in its box. "Great job Harold, wonderful, wonderful…well, this sure is weird…very weird, oh yes…"

"What's weird?" asked Harold.

"Oh, nothing, just that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave just one other feather, and it just so happens that your parents' murderer has that wand." said Olivehander vaguely.

Harold stared at him. Olivehander finished wrapping up the box and looked up.

"Yeah, that's pretty weird, isn't it? Now, this wand costs seven Twalleons, so pay up!"

Harold paid for his wand, and he and Hagger left the shop, Harold still trying to figure out whether he liked Mr. Olivehander or not. He and Hagger went back through the roaring wall, through the Squeaky Cauldron, and back onto the Shmuggle street. Hagger suggested they get a bite to eat, and Harold agreed.

"Yeh alright, Harold?" said Hagger, as he watched Harold chewing his hot dog. "Yer pretty quiet."

Harold swallowed what was in his mouth, and tried to find the right words.

"I don't think I can do this, Hagger," he began. "Everyone knows who I am, and some keep congratulating me for defeating That Guy. But I don't even remember what happened, and I don't know how to do magic! I'm already a famous person, but I don't know anything about myself!"

Hagger smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry, Harold," he said. "You'll learn fast when yer at Pigzits, and you'll have lots o' fun, too. I did, and I still do! Remember to just be yerself, and you'll be fine."

After Harold finished eating, Hagger took him back to the subway station so Harold could go back to the Durskeys. He also handed him an envelope. "Yer ticket," he explained to Harold. "Be at this subway station at eleven o' clock, and if yeh have any issues with the Durskey dummies, send a message with yer owl, she'll know where to find me…Later, Harold!"

The subway started to move, and before Harold could wave back, he had disappeared.

* * *

**Hooray! Harold is famous! And he has all his stuff! Hip hip hooray! Now review, or I will tell a Stringotts goblin to kidnap you and send you on a wild wagon ride! OH NO! THE HORROR!**


	6. Platform Five and Six Sevenths

**Yay! Here is chapter six of the Alchemist's Rock. Follow Harold as he journeys from platform five and six-sevenths to the myserious Pigzits School of Magical Education, making a few friends and enemies along the way. Disclaimers: I do not own Harold's owl, the subway ticket, Mrs. Weezy's black belt, a banister from a Pigzits staircase, Dunderbore's rainbow spray paint can, wizard sweets, Scratchers, the ability to pinch, Warty, or Pigzits castle. Enjoy! :D**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Platform Five and Six-Sevenths**

Harold's last month with the Durskeys was not fun. The only good parts were that Spudley was now so terrified of Harold he wouldn't be in the same room with him, and Aunt Pansy and Uncle Herman didn't lock him in his cabinet, force him to do (or not do) anything, or scream at him. They acted as though he didn't exist, which would've made Harold happy a few days ago, but now just made him feel downright depressed.

Harold stayed in his room most of the time, with his new owl to keep him company. He had been leafing through one of his new schoolbooks, _Magic in History, _and decided to call her Helga, a name he had found in chapter six. Helga loved swooping in and out of the window, and Harold thanked his lucky stars that Aunt Pansy didn't come in the room to vacuum anymore, for Helga kept leaving dead rats on Harold's pillow. Harold hoped that this was a sign of compassion and not a sign of disgust. Every night before he went to sleep, he crossed off another day on his calendar, counting down to September first.

It wasn't until the last day of August that he remembered that he needed a ride to the subway station. He raced down the stairs and into the living room where his aunt and uncle were watching television. Spudley cried out in fear and waddled out of the room as fast as he could, covering his nose with his hands.

"Um…Uncle Herman?" asked Harold nervously.

Uncle Herman grunted.

"Um…I need a ride to the subway station tomorrow…so I can get to…you know…Pigzits."

Uncle Herman grunted again, staring at the TV.

"So…can you drive me?"

Grunt. Harold hoped that it meant yes.

"Thanks."

He was about to leave the room when Uncle Herman spoke.

"So you have to take the subway? What happened to all the magic carpets? Are they all ripped apart for some reason?"

"Um…I don't know," said Harold uncomfortably.

"Where is this weirdo school, anyway?" Uncle Herman barked.

"I don't know," Harold said again. He took the ticket out of his pocket. "I just have to take the subway from platform five and six-sevenths at eleven o' clock tomorrow. I guess I'll find out when I get there."

His aunt and uncle stared. "Platform what?" asked Uncle Herman.

"Five and six-sevenths."

"What the hell are you talking about?" snapped Uncle Herman. "There's no such thing!"

"Yes there is," said Harold angrily. "That's what it says on my ticket."

"Yeah, right!" snorted Uncle Herman. "Alright, we'll take you to the station tomorrow. You're lucky we have to go to Boston anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why do you have to go to Boston?" asked Harold.

"We're taking Spudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Herman. "A plastic surgeon is going to fix his nose before he has to go to school."

Harold woke up early the next morning. He was to excited to go back to sleep, so he pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. He decided against changing into his wizard robes, thinking that all the Shmuggles at the subway station would stare if they saw a kid wearing what looked like a purple bathrobe out in public. He locked Helga in her cage, checked suitcase to make sure he had everything he needed, and paced his room until the Durskeys got up. A little while later, Uncle Herman heaved Harold's suitcase into the trunk of his car, Aunt Pansy promised to buy Spudley a giant bag of candy if he sat next to Harold in the backseat, and they were off.

They arrived at the subway station at ten-thirty. Uncle Herman plunked Harold's suitcase onto a cart and pushed it for him. Harold was wondering why in the world Uncle Herman wasn't subjecting him to the usual manual labor when he stopped suddenly, a wicked grin on his face.

"Well, here we are. There's platform five, and there's platform six. I don't see _your_ platform. Maybe they forgot to build it?"

Harold looked around desperately. He saw the sign for platform five and the sign for platform six, but there was no sign for platform five and six-sevenths. He swore, and for the first time in his life, Uncle Herman didn't smack him with whatever was in his hands at the moment. On the contrary, he burst into laughter.

"Have a good time at Piggypimples, or whatever your magical nuthouse is called!" he shouted, and he, Aunt Pansy, and Spudley walked back to the parking lot, howling with laughter, Spudley snorting occasionally. He didn't even mind that people were staring at his nose.

Harold started to panic. He rolled his cart to the nearest station guard and asked how to get onto platform five and six-sevenths, but the guard just stared at him. He asked for the train that left at eleven o' clock, but the guard said there wasn't one, and Harold heard him muttering under his breath as he wheeled his cart around and walked back the other way. He noticed he was getting a lot of weird looks because Helga had started to squawk angrily. The clock above his head told him he had only ten minutes to get onto the subway, and he had no idea where it was. He was going to miss it and be stranded here for days, because the Durskeys wouldn't be coming back to get him anytime soon. He was thinking about getting out his wand and tapping the sign for platform five when he heard a voice.

"…look at all these Shmuggles, hardly enough room to move around…"

Harold whirled around so fast he slipped and fell on his backside. He pulled himself back up just in time to see who had spoken. It was a plump woman with four boys and a small girl, and they all had bright red hair. The boys were all wheeling carts like Harold's, and they even had an _owl._ He felt his heart thumping in his chest as he followed the family. They stopped in front of the barrier between platforms five and six, so he stopped a little ways behind them, listening to what they were saying.

"And the platform number is…?" asked the boy's mother.

"Five and six-sevenths!" cried the girl. "Mom, please let me go, oh, can I, please?"

"No, Winnie, you're too young, now shush. Henry, you first."

"Why does Henry get to go first?" cried one of the older boys in outrage.

"Ooh, pick me, pick me!" said what looked like the boy's twin. "It's because he has no life!"

"It's because I'm the oldest!" snapped Henry, and he started forward. Harold willed himself not to blink so he wouldn't miss what happened, but a large crowd suddenly raced in front of him, chasing what looked like a small dog. By the time they had passed, the boy had disappeared.

"Okay, Ed, since you're just _bursting_ to go, you next," said the woman.

"_Ed?_" cried the boy. "Please tell me you're joking. I'm Gordy, shouldn't my own mother be able to recognize me?"

"Sorry, Gordy honey."

"Just kidding, I am Ed," said the boy, and before his mother could do anything but growl angrily, he raced forward, his twin right behind him. They were running towards the barrier, and suddenly…they were gone. Harold plucked up his courage and started forward.

"Hey, lady! Excuse me?"

The woman turned, smiling. "Why, hello, stranger!" she said. "First year at Pigzits? My son Don is new, too." She pointed at the boy who hadn't disappeared into thin air yet. He was tall and thin, had bright red hair, freckles, and a long (but not pointy) nose.

"Yes, I just need to ask…I don't know where…how to…"

"How to get on the platform?" she asked kindly, and he nodded.

"No problem, no problem at all," she said, patting Harold on the back. "All you have to do is run into the barrier."

"What?" said Harold. "But I'll be squashed like a bug!"

"No you won't," said the woman. "Unless you keep thinking that. _Then_ you'll be squashed like a bug. Here, go before Don. Just run."

"What, now?" said Harold, bewildered.

"Yes, now! Unless you want to miss the subway!"

"But…I don't…think I can…" Harold stammered.

"Oh, for the love of Pete!" cried the woman, and with surprising strength, she picked up Harold, dropped him into the cart, and with a loud "HI-YAH!" karate-kicked the cart towards the barrier. Harold screamed like a little girl, but before he knew it, he had gone right through the wall.

Harold climbed out of the cart and stared at his surroundings in astonishment. A bright purple subway was waiting for him next to a platform full of gossiping teenagers. He looked up and saw a sign that said:_ Pigzits Express, 11:00_. He looked behind him to see an iron gate with another sign above it: _Platform Five and Six-Sevenths_. He made it!

He started to walk, staring around at the chattering crowd. He could see owls and cats everywhere, and one boy was complaining that he lost his toad. A crowd circled an older boy with dreadlocks, screaming in delight as a long, shiny leg poked itself out of a small box in his hands.

Finally Harold came to an empty subway car. As he got close to it, he realized that someone had wrote _Dunderbore waz here _on the side with rainbow spray paint. Wondering who Dunderbore was, he put Helga in first and then tried to heave his suitcase through the doors, but was unable. Twice it fell on top of him, causing him to collapse onto the concrete.

"Hey, you! Need some help?" The red haired twins he had seen earlier were running over.

"Yes, of course I do! Thanks," he added, thinking he had sounded too harsh, but the boys showed no sign of offense. The three of them were able to carry the suitcase through the doors quite easily. Harold sighed with relief and pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. The twins gasped.

"Oh my God!" cried one of them. "You…you…"

"Are…are…" cried the other.

"Harold Plodder!" they yelled at the same time.

"Oh, that kid? Oops, I mean, yes, that's right." said Harold. His face turned red as the twins kept staring at him as though he was the best thing since sliced bread. Finally a voice called, "Ed? Gordy? Get over here right now!" and they ran off, glancing backward at Harold.

Harold chose a seat next to the window and sat down. Unlike most subway trains, this one had a whole bunch of different colored squashy, couch-like seats, and they were very comfortable. Harold's was bright green. He looked out the window and watched the twins' mother taking out a tissue.

"Donny, you've got a big smear of dirt on your chin."

The boy tried to squirm away, but the twins pushed him back and his mother caught him, wrapped her arms around him, and began rubbing his chin with the tissue.

"Mom! Stop it - ack! _MOM!_"

"Aww, widdle Donny's chin is still covered in dirt!" cried one of the twins as Don squirmed free again.

"Shut your face," snapped Don.

"Where's Henry?" said their mother, standing on tiptoe. "I can't see him!"

"_I _can," said one of the twins. "He's coming over now."

The oldest boy came strutting into sight. He had already put on his purple Pigzits robes, and his chest was puffed out importantly. Harold could see a red and gold badge with the letter _P_ there.

"Hello, Mom!" he said spectacularly. "I can't stay long, I have to go to the front of the subway, the prefects' car is there, and I have to keep an eye on things, you know…"

"_What?_ Are you a _prefect,_ Henry?" asked one of the twins in amazement. "Why didn't you _tell _us? That's really important news!"

"Oh, wait, wait, hold the phone!" said the other twin, putting his fingertips on his temples and closing his eyes, "Something's coming to me! Yes, yes, you _did_ mention it at least once -"

"No, no," contradicted the first twin, "I remember he mentioned it twice -"

"And now that I think about it, he talked about it for a whole five minutes, what _torture!_"

"You think _that's_ torture? Try dealing with it all _summer_, my God, I'm getting a migraine just thinking about it -"

"_SHUT UP!_" roared Henry.

"And how come he gets new robes, too?" complained the first twin. "Hasn't his ego been swelled enough already?"

Henry's face was so red and full of rage Harold thought he was going to explode. He was doing his best to keep his laughter silent so the family wouldn't hear him.

"Because he's a _prefect!_" snapped their mother, ruffling Henry's hair. "Okay, okay, you can go now, I'll write to you, alright?"

Henry nodded curtly and strode off towards the front of the subway. When he was out of earshot, she turned to the twins.

"Now, _you listen to me._ You'd better _behave yourselves_ this year, understand? If I get one more owl telling me that you've…you've blown up one of the staircases or -"

"Blown up one of the staircases? We've never blown up one of the staircases!" cried one of the twins indignantly.

"But that's a great idea, thanks, Mom." said the other, grinning.

"It's _not funny!_" hissed their mother. "Make sure you keep an eye on Don, too."

"Aww, don't worry, Widdle Donnywonny is safe with us."

Don socked the first twin in the stomach and kicked the second one in the shins. "I can take care of myself," he snapped. His sister laughed.

"We believe you," said the first twin hoarsely, doubled over in pain.

"Oh, I just remembered, guess what, Mom?" asked the second twin, suddenly recovering from his brother's kick. "Guess who we just saw on the subway?"

Harold slouched down in his seat so they wouldn't see him looking.

"Remember that black-haired kid back in the station? The one you karate-kicked through the barrier? _Guess who it is?_"

"Who?"

"_Harold Plodder!_"

"Oh, Mom, please let me go on the subway and see him, please Mom, please?" begged the girl.

"No, Winnie, you've already seen him, and I don't think he'd like it if people kept gawking at him like he was in the zoo." said her mother. "Is it really him? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar too, it's shaped just like a star."

"Poor boy, no wonder he was there by himself, he was so polite when he asked how to get on the platform. Now I'm starting to wish I hadn't kicked him like that."

"Oh, who cares, I bet he was having fun, didn't you hear him screaming with joy?" said the first twin. "Anyway, do you think he remembers what That Guy looks like?"

"I forbid you to ask him, Ed," said their mother, sounding suddenly stern. "You better not remind him of that on his first day of school."

"Alright, alright, keep your pants on."

A whistle blew.

"Hurry, get on the subway!" cried their mother, and the three boys hurried through the doors. Their sister started bawling.

"Stop it, Winnie, you're embarrassing us," moaned the first twin, leaning out the window. "We'll send you lots of letters."

"We'll send you the banister of a Pigzits staircase."

"_GORDY!"_

"Just kidding." he said quickly.

The subway began to move. Faster and faster it went, and the boys' sister was running trying to catch up to it, until she gave up and waved. A moment later the subway turned a corner and the station disappeared.

The youngest red-haired boy walked over to Harold. "Is anyone sitting here?" he asked, pointing to the seat opposite Harold. "All the other seats are taken."

"Nope," said Harold. The boy sat down and looked away, apparently trying not to stare.

"Hey Don! DON!" The twins came running down the aisle and skidded to a stop next to Don and Harold.

"Just wanted to let you know, we're going to the other end of the subway to see that giant cockroach our friend just caught." said the first twin. He turned to Harold. "Oh, and by the way, hi Harold. I'm Ed, and this is my bro Gordy. And that's Don. Well, see you!" And they were off.

"Idiots," said Don. He looked at Harold, and blurted out, "Are you really Harold Plodder?"

"Unfortunately," muttered Harold.

"Oh. Well, I guess they're not kidding, then," said Don, looking embarrassed. "They always joke about _everything._"

He kept staring at Harold. Harold sighed.

"You want to see my scar, don't you?" he guessed.

"Very much," said Don.

Harold pushed his hair back and Don gasped.

"Wow! It really is a star!" he exclaimed. "Some people were insisting that it was a lightning bolt, no idea where they got that from." He paused, and then said, "Do you remember anything?"

"Not really," said Harold. "All I remember is lots of green light."

"Cool!" said Don.

"Is your whole family magical?" asked Harold.

"I think…" he hesitated. "I think Mom has a second cousin who's a bank teller, but she never brings him up, so in theory, yes." He paused again. "So, do you really live with Shmuggles?"

"Yes," said Harold. "It sucks. They're terrible…well, not all Shmuggles, but the ones I live with are. Wish I had three wizard brothers."

"I have five, not three," said Don gloomily. "Billy and Charles already left Pigzits. Billy was Head Boy and Charles was captain of his Quippish team. Now perfect Henry is a prefect. Ed and Gordy love to goof off all the time, but they still do well in school. I never get anything new, I just get everyone's hand-me-downs. I've got Billy's robes, Charles's wand, and Henry's rat."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fat brown rat.

"This is Scratchers. He's my useless pet. Dad got Henry an owl for being made a prefect - just another ego booster - but he couldn't affo - uh, I got Scratchers instead." His ears went red and he looked out the window.

Harold didn't think there was anything wrong with being poor, so he started telling Don all about what the Durskeys gave him for clothes and didn't give him for presents. After a few minutes, Don looked more cheerful.

"…and until Hagger told me, I had no idea that Pigzits or wizards or Moldywart even existed…"

Don gasped, then collapsed in a fit of giggles.

"It's not funny," mumbled Harold.

"No, no," choked Don, sitting back up again. "I would never laugh at that. It's just…_you said That Guy's name!_"

"Sorry," said Harold, "I just never knew that people don't say it. See what I mean? I bet I stink at everything when I get to Pigzits!"

"You won't stink," said Don. "A lot of witches and wizards come from Shmuggle families, and they keep up no problem."

They had left Boston now, and as Harold looked out the window he saw huge fields full of cows. As far as he knew, they should still be able to see the city.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"No idea," said Don absentmindedly. He put Scratchers on the seat next to him, and began bouncing. Each time he came back down on the seat, Scratchers bounced higher and higher.

"You kids want to buy anything?" said a voice suddenly. Don yelped and jumped a foot above his seat. When he came back down, Scratchers was catapulted off the cushion and into Harold's lap. Harold forced himself not to scream and looked up. A plump witch with a food cart was standing in the aisle next to their seats.

"I've got sandwiches," mumbled Don, taking Scratchers back from Harold, but Harold said "YES!" Jumping up, he took his money out of his pocket and prepared to buy every Snickers bar he saw…but the woman didn't have Snickers bars. What she had were Birdy Blott's Every Flavor Gummies, Scrooble's Best Bubble Gum, Chocolate Hogs, Peppermint Pasties, Caramel Cakes, Twizzler Wands, and a bunch of other outrageous things that Harold had never even heard of. Harold took out a pile of coins from his money bag and bought a bunch of everything.

"Holy crap!" said Don as Harold staggered back to his seat, carrying more than what his arms were capable of. He let the sweets fall onto the seat and sat down.

"Um…I guess you're hungry?" said Don tentatively.

"I could eat a pig," said Harold, trying to decide what to taste first.

"Good thing you bought Chocolate Hogs, then," said Don. He pulled a lumpy looking sandwich out of his pocket and groaned. "She always forgets that I hate tuna."

"Then have some sweets!" offered Harold. "Come on, pick whatever you like!"

"Well, okay then," said Don, and he and Harold dug in. A balloon of happiness was swelling inside Harold as he shared his cakes and candies with Don. He had never been able to share with anyone before, and now he could.

"Try a Chocolate Hog!" said Don a little bit later. "You did say you could eat a pig."

"They're not really pigs, are they?" asked Harold.

"Of course not, that would be disgusting!" said Don. "They have some sort of charm on them to make them act like a pig, and they have famous wizard cards inside them."

Harold unwrapped the Chocolate Hog and picked up the card. It featured an old man with half-moon glasses, silver hair pulled back into a ponytail, a braided silver beard, rainbow tie-dye robes, and a rainbow peace sign hanging from his neck by a gold chain. Underneath the picture was the name Albert Dunderbore.

"_This_ is Dunderbore?" asked Harold incredulously. "He looks like a hippie!"

"He _is_ a hippie," said Don. "But that doesn't matter. Look on the back."

Harold turned the card over and read:

**Albert Dunderbore**

**Currently Headmaster of Pigzits**

Dunderbore is considered to be the greatest wizard of modern times. He is famous for defeating the Dark wizard Spindlewald in 1945, for discovering the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and for his work on alchemy with his partner, Nick Sleighbell. Professor Dunderbore is a well-known hippie. He lives in a yurt when he is not at Pigzits and enjoys collecting lava lamps of all shapes and sizes.

Harold was laughing as he turned the card back over, but it stopped abruptly when he looked at the front again. "He's gone!"

"Well, he can't sit in a Chocolate Hog card all day, he's got plenty of crap to do." said Don. He glanced at the pile of Chocolate Hogs. "Um…can I…"

"Help yourself," said Harold. "You know, in the Shmuggle world, people just stay in the photos."

"That's really weird." mumbled Don, biting the head off a hog. "And be careful with those," he warned as Harold picked up a box of Every Flavor Gummies. "They really mean _every flavor_. They have all the normal flavors, but then they have things like tree bark, grasshopper, and plastic."

Despite his warnings, Don joined Harold in eating the Every Flavor Gummies. Harold got bran muffin, corn, mashed potato, grape, kiwi, salt, leaf, and even tried a weird brown one that Don tried to grab from him, which turned out to be dog poop.

The sound of footsteps made them look up. Harold was still retching. A round-faced, slightly fat boy was standing in the aisle, looking miserable.

"Have you seen a toad anywhere?" he asked.

"Nope," said Don, chewing a Twizzler wand.

"Oh," said the boy. "Well, if you do, tell me."

"Mmmhmm," said Don. The boy left.

"Hagger told me that kids with toads get teased," gasped Harold, holding his stomach.

"Hagger was right, then," mumbled Don around the Twizzler wand. "I wouldn't be caught dead with a toad, but I brought Scratchers, so I shouldn't talk. Look, he looks like he's dead!"

The rat was still sleeping on the seat next to Don.

"Ed gave me a spell to turn him yellow," he said, "but it didn't work. Too bad. He would have been more interesting if he was another color. Here, I'll try it again."

He pulled out his wand, cleared his throat, and opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, a girl with bushy brown hair and large front teeth came over to their seats.

"Hey you people! Have you seen a toad anywhere?" she said loudly. "Nelson's lost one." She sounded extremely bossy.

"He already came over," said Harold, but she was staring at Don's wand.

"Oh, magic! Yay, can I see?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer, she plopped down on the seat next to Don.

"Oh…uh…yeah," said Don, going red in the face. Harold grinned.

"Well, come on, Don, show her what you've got!" he said. Don gave him a look, and cleared his throat.

"_Sunlight, waffles, buttercup,_

_Turn him yellow or I'll throw up!"_

He jabbed the wand angrily, but nothing happened. The girl rolled her eyes.

"That's not a real spell!" she snapped. "I came over here expecting to see _real_ magic, not a made-up rhyming joke! I've tried a few easy spells and they've all worked fine. Maybe you should start with _those_ instead of inventing your own! No one in my family is magic at all, I was so shocked and pleased when I got my letter, I've heard this place is the best school of magic _ever_…I've read all my course books and memorized them, I hope that'll be enough…I'm Heidi Grace, by the way. Who are you?"

She said all this so fast Harold felt dizzy. He looked at Don, and was relieved to see his bewildered expression. Apparently, he hadn't even thought of memorizing the course books, like Harold.

"I'm…uh…Don Weezy," he stammered.

"Harold Plodder," said Harold.

"Oh, wow! You _are?_" cried Heidi. "I've read so much about you! You're in _Magical History of Modern Times _and _Actions Concerning the Dark Arts _and _Awesome Events That Took Place in the Twentieth Century_."

"Great," said Harold. "More people are stalking me."

"You didn't _know?_ My God, I'd have found out everything if it were me!"

"Well, that's your life motives, not Harold's," muttered Don. Heidi shot him a nasty look.

"Whatever. I'm going to help Nelson find his toad now!" she snapped. "And you two better change, I think we'll be arriving at Pigzits soon." And with that, she jumped up and walked back down the aisle.

"I _knew _that spell wasn't real!" Don burst out. "I'll bet Ed was laughing about this for a long time…"

"What House are your brothers in?" asked Harold.

"Diffindor," he said, suddenly sounding depressed. "Same with Mom and Dad. I sure hope I'm put there, too, imagine if I was put in _Hisserin_. And by the way, whatever House I'm in, I hope that girl's not in it."

"So what do your older brothers do when they're out of school?" said Harold, wanting to get Don back in a good mood.

"Charles is in Colorado researching dragons, and Billy's in California doing something for Stringotts." said Don. "Hey - did you hear about what happened at Stringotts? Someone tried to break into a high-security vault!"

"No, I didn't hear about that, I've been with the Shmuggles!" said Harold, shocked. "What happened to them?"

"Nothing," said Don. "That's why everyone's talking about it. It was probably a Dark wizard to get past all those goblins, but they didn't manage to take anything. People panic when they hear stuff like this 'cause they think it's That Guy's fault."

Harold was starting to feel uneasy every time someone said That Guy. He thought it was a lot easier saying Moldywart, even though the name caused people to laugh.

"What Quippish team do you support?" Don asked suddenly.

"Um…I don't know, remember? Shmuggles?" said Harold in an irritated voice.

"Oh, yeah, well, just wait until you see it! It's the best sport in the world!" And he started talking nonstop, explaining the rules of the game and the positions of the players. He was just telling Harold what kind of broomstick he'd like to have if he had the money when three people suddenly came up to them, and it wasn't Nelson or Heidi this time. Harold recognized the boy in the middle as the kid he'd seen in Miss Falcon's in Dragon Alley.

"Aha!" said the boy, pointing at Harold. "All the kids at the other end of the car keep saying that Harold Plodder is here. And it's you, isn't it?"

"Yeah," said Harold. He glanced at the other two boys. Both of them reminded him of Spudley, for they were huge, mean, and looked stupid. The middle boy noticed his look.

"Oh, sorry," he drawled. "This is Krabby, and this is Boyle. And I'm Snalfoy. Drake Snalfoy."

Don put his hand over his mouth. Harold looked at him curiously. He seemed to be having some kind of fit. All of a sudden, he burst into peals of laughter, smacking the seat next to him with his fist.

"Hey!" snapped Snalfoy. "My name is _not funny!_ _STOP LAUGHING!_" he roared, but Don wasn't listening. Now Harold was laughing too, finding the whole situation hilarious.

"Well, you know what I think is funny?" Snalfoy snarled. "The fact that every Weezy I've seen so far managed to show up with all their supplies!"

That shut both Don and Harold up. Don looked down at his feet, his ears red. Snalfoy smirked and turned to Harold.

"Some wizarding families are better than others," he said quietly. "If I were you, I wouldn't go making friends with _these _kind of people. I can help you get the right people on your side." He held out a hand, but Harold just looked at him coldly.

"I _think_ I'm able to make decisions on my own, thank you very much," he replied. And he reached out and pinched Snalfoy's hand as hard as he could.

"_OW!_" screamed Snalfoy, jumping up and down and waving his hand. "_OW OW OWEEEE!" _he glared at Harold and Don through his tantrum and yelled, "Get them, Krabby and Boyle!"

The two fat boys advanced menacingly, but Harold stepped forward. "You'd better back off or I'll pinch you too!" he growled angrily, his voice sounding braver than he really felt. Don gave Harold a look that plainly said, _are you crazy?_ But before anyone could make a move, Boyle howled in pain.

"Wow, Harold!" said Don. "How did you manage to pinch him without touching him?"

"I'm not doing anything!" said Harold indignantly. They both looked at Boyle's hand, which he was waving through the air just like Snalfoy, and saw Scratchers the rat hanging on for dear life.

"Yay! Go Scratchers!" cried Don through Boyle's screams. Scratchers managed to hold on for a few more seconds, and then he was flung towards the window. The three boys scampered away without looking back. Almost immediately, Heidi Grace was back.

"What the _hell_ has been going on in here?" she yelled. "You're making lots of noise, you know!"

"Oh, _really?_" said Harold, crouching down on the floor next to where Scratchers landed. "Is he okay?" he asked Don.

"Um…he looks dead to me…no, wait! He's sleeping!" cried Don. As Harold looked closer, he could see Don was right. The rat's chest was rising and falling and his eyes were closed. Don picked him up and put him back in his pocket. "So you've met Snalfoy before?" he asked Harold. Harold told the story of how he had met him in Miss Falcon's.

"He's a jerk, that's all there is too it," said Don. "His dad used to be a big supporter of That Guy, and my dad didn't believe him when he said he had been bewitched to follow him." He turned to Heidi. "_Now_ what do you want?"

"I want you to _get changed!_" she hissed. "People have been running up and down the aisles and it's giving me a headache."

"Okay, we'll get changed," said Harold. "Would you mind leaving, now?"

"Fine," she snapped. "I wouldn't like to see _you _two naked! And you, Don, get that smear of dirt off your chin!"

Don gave the finger to her retreating back, and he and Harold quickly changed into their purple Pigzits robes.

A voice echoed through the subway. "We will reach Pigzits in five minutes. Leave all your luggage on the subway, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harold felt sick with nerves, and he could tell Don felt the same way, but they still crammed their pockets with the rest of the sweets.

Finally, the subway stopped. People pushed and shoved, trying to get out the doors first, Snalfoy, Krabby, and Boyle among them. Harold and Don came out last, looking around at the small, dark platform. A lamp bobbed ahead of them, and Harold heard a familiar voice.

"First years! First years this way! C'mon, now…Oh, hi Harold!" Hagger cried suddenly, waving the lantern up and down. "Now, let's go, just follow me, and DON'T PUSH, FOR GOD'S SAKES!"

They followed Hagger down a winding, narrow path. Hagger, leading the front of the line, called out, "Yeh'll be seeing Pigzits in a mo', lookie there!"

There was a loud "Ooooo!" as they turned a corner, and several boys yelled, "AWESOME!" Harold could see a giant castle with lots of turrets and towers sitting atop a mountain. Separating the castle from the first years was a giant lake.

"No more than four to a boat, now, come on!" said Hagger, pointing to a fleet of little rowboats next to the dock. Harold and Don were joined by Nelson and Heidi.

"Everyone not drowning?" called Hagger, sitting in a boat all by himself. "Okey dokey then…FORWARD!"

The boats started to move across the lake. There were no waves to bump over, and the ride was quite smooth. Harold stared up at the looming castle, looking bigger and bigger as they got closer and closer.

"DUCK!" roared Hagger, and everyone bent down as the boats traveled through a hole in the cliff face; they seemed to be going through a passageway, and Harold guessed they were under the school. Finally, they arrived at some sort of underground harbor. Everyone clambered out of the boats and stood close together, shivering, as Hagger checked the boats for any misplaced possessions. Or animals.

"Hey, someone left a toad in here!" he called suddenly, holding up a brown, lumpy amphibian.

"Warty!" cried Nelson. Several kids sniggered as he ran forward and took the toad, cradling it in his arms. Hagger then led the way up another small passageway, which came out on the grass in front of the great castle. Then they went up the stone steps until they were all crowded around the huge, oak doors.

"Did I lose anyone?" he called. "Is everyone there and ready? And you there, don't lose that toad again!"

He turned around, raised a giant fist, and knocked three times on the castle doors.

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**Hahaha! I just love writing this story! Now REVIEW, OR I WILL PINCH YOUR HAND! I wonder how Harold learned how to pinch like that...the world may never know! XD**


	7. The Sorting Scarf

**Hi again! Here's chapter seven of the Alchemist's Rock. This one might not be as funny as the last, but just deal with it. I tried my best to add some humor in it. Disclaimers: I do not own any of the Pigzits ghosts, the Sorting Scarf's rapping abilities, Dunderbore's bunny slippers, the mysterious lightbulbs, or The Fat Cat. Have fun reading!

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Chapter 7: The Sorting Scarf

Almost as soon as Hagger had put his arm down, the doors swung open. A tall witch wearing pea green robes stood there. Her hair was wrapped up in a tight bun, and she looked extremely strict. Harold's first thought was that this woman did not have a sense of humor.

"I got the first years, Professor McGummable," announced Hagger unnecessarily.

"I can see that," said the woman. "I'll take them from here. Follow me," she said to the group of kids, and they shuffled after her.

The entrance hall was so huge that it could've fit the Durskeys' entire house inside of it. A glorious marble staircase dominated the scene. Flaming torches hung on the walls, basking the hall in a flickering light. Harold craned his neck trying to see the ceiling, but it was too high to make out.

Professor McGummable led them past a pair of double doors that stretched all the way up to the ceiling. Harold could hear many voices on the other side - the rest of the school must already have arrived. They entered a small room off of the hall instead, and once they were all inside, she turned to face them, shutting the door behind her.

"Welcome to Pigzits!" she said, smiling. "The start-of-the-marking-period feast will start soon, but before you take your seats in the Great Dining Room, we must Sort you into your Houses. This will be an extremely important ceremony because your House will be like your family within Pigzits. You will take classes with your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend your free time in your House living room.

"The four Houses are called Diffindor, Snufflepuff, Gladenstraw, and Hisserin. Each House has its own history, and each has produced stupendous witches and wizards. While you are here, your accomplishments will earn your House points, and rule-breaking will lose House points. The House with the most points at the end of the year will win the House Cup.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few moments. Why don't you all try to make yourselves look presentable while you wait?"

She was looking at the dirt on Don's chin. Don looked down, his face red. Harold tried to flatten his hair, but it was a wasted effort.

"I will come back when we are ready for you," said Professor McGummable. "Please wait quietly, and don't do anything stupid." And with that, she left the room.

"I don't like her," muttered Don.

"I love her!" said Heidi from behind them.

"What are we supposed to do?" asked Harold nervously.

"Ed says it's a very important magical test, but comparing that with all the other crap he told me, I'll bet he's lying," said Don angrily.

Harold swallowed. A test? What if Ed _wasn't_ lying? Harold knew nothing about magic. He looked around at the other first years and saw that they looked as terrified as he was. He stared at the door, waiting for Professor McGummable to come back and send him to the devil.

Suddenly, several people screamed. Harold jumped and whirled around. About twenty ghosts had just floated through the opposite wall. They were slightly see-through and pearly white, and were talking animatedly amongst themselves. They didn't even seem to notice the first years.

"My dear Priest, sir, in my opinion Sneeze does _not _deserve anymore chances. Haven't we given him enough already?" said a ghost with a bowtie around his neck. "He's not even a ghost at all! He would - hey! Who are all these people?" He had finally noticed the first years.

No one said a word.

"Oh, you're new students!" exclaimed the other ghost that had been arguing. "Welcome, welcome, I'm the Plump Priest, hope you're in Snufflepuff! That was my old House!"

"That's enough!" said Professor McGummable, striding back into the room. "We are ready for you now." she told the first years. "Get into a line and follow me."

The first years got themselves into position, and the ghosts floated back through the wall. Feeling sick, Harold got behind a boy with sand-colored hair with Don behind him, and followed the line into the Great Dining Room.

The Great Dining Room was the most magnificent room Harold had ever seen. Thousands and thousands of candles were floating in midair. Underneath them were four long tables where the rest of the school seemed to be sitting. The tables were set with sparkling plates, glasses, and silverware of all shapes and sizes. At the top of the hall was another table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGummable led them up to this table, whispering, "Turn around and face the students." The first years turned around, and Harold saw hundreds of faces, human and ghost, staring at them. He looked up at the ceiling, and saw that it was silky black and dotted with twinkling stars.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," whispered Heidi from somewhere behind Harold. "It says so in _A History of Pigzits_."

Harold looked down again as Professor McGummable placed a four-legged stool in the center of the floor. On top of the stool she put an extremely fluffy scarf. It was made with rainbow yarn and had tassels hanging off each end. It had a big rip near one of the ends, and looked awfully old.

_Maybe we have to play tug-of-war with it,_ thought Harold. That would explain why it was ripped. But he noticed that everyone was staring at the scarf, so he stared at it too. For a few seconds, nothing happened. But all of a sudden, the scarf rose up like a snake, one end still sitting on the stool. The rip opened wide and the scarf began to rap:

"_Oh, you may think that I'm ugly,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll unravel myself if you can find_

_A smarter scarf than me._

_You can keep your winter scarves_

_Swathed 'round your neck through fall,_

_But I'm the Pigzits Sorting Scarf_

_And I can wrap them all._

_There's nothing buried in your brain_

_The Sorting Scarf can't see,_

_So put me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You could belong in Diffindor_

_Where dwell heroic hearts,_

_Their courage, guts, and courtesy,_

_Set Diffindors apart._

_You could belong in Snufflepuff_

_Where they are fair and loyal,_

_Those uncomplaining kids are true_

_And undaunted by toil._

_Or how 'bout wise old Gladenstraw_

_If you got a brainy mind,_

_Where those who're bright and clever_

_Will always find their kind._

_Or perhaps in Hisserin_

_You'll make some real friends,_

_Those scheming kids use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So wrap me on! Please don't be scared_

_And please try not to barf,_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

'_Cause I'm the Sorting Scarf!"_

The whole room burst into applause as the scarf finished its rap. It bowed to each of the four tables and flopped back onto the stool.

"That's all you have to do?" said Don in disbelief. "I'm going to kill Ed, he kept saying we had to arm-wrestle with Dunderbore."

Harold smiled weakly. He was feeling a lot better about putting on the scarf then arm-wrestling Dunderbore, but he wished he didn't have to do it in front of so many people.

Professor McGummable stepped forward, holding a long roll of parchment. "When your name is called, come sit on the stool and wrap the Sorting Scarf around your neck. The list is not alphabetical, so just deal with it." There were several sniggers from the other students. She looked at the list. "Blabbott, Anna!"

A girl with blonde pigtails staggered out of the line, wrapped the scarf around her neck, and sat down. A moment's pause…

"SNUFFLEPUFF!" cried the scarf. The table to the far right cheered loudly as Anna Blabbott took off the scarf and joined them. Harold saw the Plump Priest waving at her.

"Moans, Suzy!"

"SNUFFLEPUFF!" the scarf yelled again, and Suzy went to sit next to Anna.

"Toot, Gary!"

"GLADENSTRAW!"

The table second from the left cheered this time. Several students shook Gary's hand before he sat down.

"Smocklejurst, Sandy" went to Gladenstraw, too, but "Frown, Lily" became the first Diffindor. The table on the left exploded with cheers, and Harold could see Ed and Gordy banging the table with their silverware while they wolf-whistled.

"Gullstrode, Jillian" then became a Hisserin. Harold noticed that the Hisserin table's students looked pretty unlikable.

"Pinch-Pletchly, Dustin!"

"SNUFFLEPUFF!"

Harold noticed that the scarf didn't always shout out the House immediately. For "Shimmigan, Sean" the scarf had to think for almost a whole minute before shouting out "DIFFINDOR!"

"Grace, Heidi!"

Heidi ran to the stool, sat down, and yanked the Sorting Scarf eagerly around her neck.

"DIFFINDOR!" yelled the scarf. Don groaned.

Harold suddenly had a terrible thought. What if the Sorting Scarf _couldn't_ sort him? What if he sat on the stool for hours and hours until Professor McGummable took the scarf off his neck, saying he had no magical talent whatsoever, and sent him back home on the subway?

When the toad boy, Nelson Wrongbotton, was called, he tripped over his feet on the way to the stool. The scarf took the longest time with Nelson. When it finally cried, "DIFFINDOR!" Nelson leaped off the stool and forgot to take the scarf off. He was halfway to the Diffindor table when he realized his mistake, and brought the scarf back to Professor McGummable with his face as red as a tomato.

When Snalfoy's name was called, he strutted up to the stool and got his wish immediately. The scarf was barely wound around his neck when it screamed, "HISSERIN!" Snalfoy joined his friends Krabby and Boyle looking satisfied.

Harold gulped when he realized that there weren't many people left.

"Loon"…, "Knot"…, "Starkinson"…, then twin girls, "McGill" and "McGill", until finally -

"Plodder, Harold!"

The whole room gasped, and Harold heard whispers everywhere as he approached the stool.

"Did she say Plodder?"

"_Harold Plodder?"_

"I need his autograph!"

Harold wrapped the scarf around his neck, sat down on the stool, and waited. The room became silent once more.

"Hey, it's Harold Plodder!" said a small voice in his ear. "Nice to meet you, knew I'd be seeing you one day, now let's see…hmmm…wow, you're pretty tricky, very tricky, you've got bravery, and a great brain, too. Lots of talent, and - ooh - a thirst to prove yourself? I like that…now, where could you go?"

_Not Hisserin, please, anywhere but there, not Hisserin, _thought Harold desperately.

"Really? Not Hisserin? You could do very well in Hisserin, you know, Hisserin could help you on the way to greatness, you know…"

_I have enough greatness already, _thought Harold mutinously. _The last thing I need is more of that._

"I guess you've got a point," said the voice. "Well, if you're sure, better be…DIFFINDOR!"

The scarf shouted the last word to the whole room. He unwrapped the scarf and walked shakily towards the Diffindor table. He was getting the loudest cheer out of anyone so far, but he didn't even noticed because he was so relieved at not being Sorted into Hisserin. Henry the Prefect shook his hand as though he was being introduced to the President, and the Weezy twins were banging their silverware again, chanting, "_We got Plodder! We got Plodder!_"

Harold could see the High Table properly now. Hagger was sitting at the end nearest to the Diffindor table. He waved his whole arm at Harold, who grinned back. And at the center of the table, in a large, squashy armchair, sat Albert Dunderbore. He looked just like he did on Harold's Chocolate Hog card, with his silver hair in a ponytail, his braided silver beard, his half-moon glasses, his rainbow tie-dye robes, and his rainbow peace sign necklace. He was leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head, and his feet were up on the table. Harold saw that he was wearing pink bunny slippers.

There were now only three more people to Sort. "Thompson, Ian", a tall, dark-skinned boy, was Sorted into Diffindor as well. When Don's name was called, he staggered up to the stool, his face extremely pale. He wound the scarf around his neck with shaking hands.

"DIFFINDOR!" screamed the scarf, and he exhaled in relief, all the color returning to his face. Harold clapped and yelled loudly as Henry leaned across him to shake Don's hand, too.

"Why are you shaking _my_ hand?" asked Don. "I'm your brother!"

"It's all practice for when he meets the President," whispered Ed. "He's got his life all planned out until he's sixty-five."

"I do not!" said Henry indignantly, but his voice was lost as the last first year was Sorted into Hisserin, and the table erupted into cheers.

"And the fact that he's denying it means it's true!" yelled Gordy over the noise. Harold snorted loudly and Henry gave the twins a nasty look. Harold looked up to see Professor McGummable rolling up the scroll and taking the Sorting Scarf away. His stomach growled as he looked down at his empty plate, just then realizing how hungry he was.

Albert Dunderbore gave a loud yawn, stretched, and got to his feet. Several people giggled. He held his arms wide as if trying to hug the whole room.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Pigzits! Before we start the feast, I would like to say a few choice words. And here they are: groovy, lava lamp, far out, peace!

"Thank you!"

He sat down again, and the room burst into a mixture of laughter and applause.

"Is he - is he kind of crazy?" Harold asked Henry.

"Of course he is!" cried Henry. "But that doesn't matter, he's a genius, he's the best sorcerer in the world! Meatballs, Harold?"

Harold gasped. The empty plates along the table had suddenly been filled with food. Spaghetti and meatballs, steak, chicken legs, soup, pizza, mashed potatoes, corn, peas, French fries, hamburgers, hot dogs, and many other things as far as the eye could see. Harold took some of everything and dug in.

The Dursleys had never starved Harold in the truest sense of the word, but he was never allowed to eat anything he really enjoyed. Spudley always took anything Harold wanted, even if it made him throw up a while afterwards.

"Wow - that looks delicious," said the ghost with the bow tie sadly.

"You can't eat?" asked Harold.

"No," said the ghost. "My last meal was almost five hundred years ago. I don't need to eat, but I do miss it, I mean, wouldn't you?"

"Of course," said Harold sympathetically. "What's your name?"

"Oh, sorry, I never introduced myself," said the ghost. "My name is Sir Rick de Wimsy-Porkinton, at your service whenever you need -"

"Hey! I know you!" exclaimed Don suddenly. "You're Almost Noseless Rick!"

"Don't call me that!" said Sir Rick. "Call me Sir Rick de Wimsy -"

"_Almost _nosless? How can you be _almost _noseless?" asked Sean Shimmigan.

Sir Rick looked extremely annoyed.

"Like _this,_" he snapped, and he took the end of his nose and pulled. The whole thing swung upwards, and Harold could see that it was only attached by a little bit of skin between his eyebrows. Someone had obviously tried to cut it off, but didn't do it the right way. Looking happier at the shocked looks on everyone's faces, he let his nose drop back into place and said, "Well - new Diffindors! You'd better help us win the Cup this year, the Bleeding Baron has had it for six years now - he's the Hisserin ghost, over there."

Harold looked over at the Hisserin table to see a truly horrible-looking ghost. He had dark eyes and a gaunt face, and his robes were covered with silvery bloodstains.

"How'd he get covered in blood?" asked Sean.

"I have no idea," said Almost Noseless Rick.

When everyone had finished eating, the remains of the food seemed to melt away, leaving the plates sparkly-clean again. Then came the desserts: pies, cakes and cupcakes, a chocolate fountain, s'mores, ice cream, candy, doughnuts….

As Harold helped himself to the cupcakes, he listened to Henry and Heidi talking about classes.

"I'm really excited about Transfiguration, turning things into other things, I want the lessons to start really soon," Heidi was saying, taking small, dainty bites out of her jelly doughnut.

"You'll be starting with small things, first, at least until you get the hang of it, like matches into needles, that kind of thing," said Henry.

Harold was starting to feel exhausted. He looked up at the High Table again and watched the teachers. Dunderbore was shoving cupcake after cupcake into his mouth, while Professor McGummable watched disapprovingly. Harold looked further down the table and noticed Professor Quiddle, the man he had seen in the Squeaky Cauldron, was wearing a weird, purple turban. He was talking to another teacher with pale, waxy skin, greasy black hair, and a hooked nose.

It happed very suddenly. The hooked nosed teacher turned away from Quiddle and looked straight at Harold - and a white hot pain seared across his scar.

"YEOWCH!" yelled Harold, clapping a hand to it, but the pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Henry looked at him with concern.

"Are you okay, Harold?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm great," said Harold, still rubbing his forehead. "Who's that guy talking to Professor Quiddle?"

"Oh, you know Professor Quiddle?" said Henry, looking up at the staff table. "Oh - that's Professor Snake, no wonder Quiddle's looking so nervous. He teaches Potions, but everyone knows he wants Quiddle's job. He knows a lot about the Dark Arts, Snake."

Harold stared at Snake for a while, but he didn't look at him again.

Finally, the desserts disappeared from the plates, and the room fell silent again. Dunderbore got to his feet.

"Hello again, people! I just have a few more announcements to make!" he exclaimed. Harold saw that he had bright pink frosting and multicolored sprinkles all around his mouth. Other people had obviously noticed it too, for there were the sounds of muffled laughter from all over the room. Dunderbore didn't seem concerned.

"First year students should know that the big, scary forest on the grounds is forbidden to everyone. And a reminder to some older students won't hurt." He grinned and glanced at the Weezy twins.

"Mr. Filth, the caretaker, has also told me to remind you that magic is not allowed in the hallways before classes!

"Quippish trials will take place during the second week of the marking period. Anyone who wants to play this awesome sport for their House can talk to Madam Hoops.

"And last but not least, the third floor hallway is forbidden to all students for this year. If you walk down that hallway, it tells me that you wish to die a very painful and unpleasant death."

Harold burst out laughing, but not many other people joined him.

"Is he serious?" he asked Henry, feeling embarrassed.

"I think so," said Henry, looking confused. "But he usually gives us a reason."

"He just did!" said Harold. "He said we would die if we went down there!"

"That's not what I meant -" Henry began, but Dunderbore was talking again.

"And now, before you all hit the sack, it's time to sing the school song!" he cried, grinning. Harold noticed that the other teachers' smiles looked like they were being forced. Dunderbore flicked his wand, and a long, tie-dye ribbon flew out the end of it, and began twisting itself into words.

"Everyone think of your favorite tune, and start singing!" he said. And the school bellowed:

_Pigzits, Pigzits, Piggy Zitty Pigzits,_

_Teach us something, please,_

_Whether we be old and wrinkly,_

_Or young with bony knees,_

_Our brains could use a nice refresher_

_Of some splendid stuff,_

'_Cause now they're all filled with hot air,_

_Cobwebs, and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Give back what we've forgot,_

_Just try your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And tie our brains into a knot!"_

Everyone finished the song at different times. Finally, the only people left were the Weezy twins, singing to the traditional graduation song. Dunderbore conducted their last few notes with his wand and when they had finished, was one of the people who clapped the loudest.

"Wow! That was awesome!" he yelled when the clapping subsided. "But now it's off to bed. Peace out!" He made the peace symbol with both hands, grinning broadly.

Henry led the Diffindors out of the Great Dining Room and up the marble staircase. Harold was too tired to be shocked that the people in the many pictures were moving and talking. Many pointed at him and shrieked, "Harold Plodder!" but he didn't care. They climbed a few more staircases, and Harold was just going to ask Henry how much further they had to go when the whole group came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of light bulbs was floating in the air ahead of them. When Henry strode into sight, they began throwing themselves at him. Henry sighed, turning around and saying, "That's Sneeze. He's a poltergeist." He looked up and yelled, "SNEEZE! Stop being an idiot and show yourself!"

The unseen Sneeze made a noise like air being let out of a balloon.

"Do you want me to get the Bleeding Baron?" Henry threatened.

There was a small pop, and a little man came into view. He was sitting pretzel-style in the air and had a wicked grin on his face.

"Yay! Little kids!" he cried in a nasally voice. "I hope they have good reflexes!" He threw more light bulbs, and everyone ducked. "Oh, and by the way, when I said that, I was being sarcastic!"

"We're not little!" said Nelson indignantly.

"You are in my book!" said Sneeze, cackling evilly.

"Where did you get those light bulbs?" said Henry slowly. "Pigzits doesn't even use light bulbs!"

"Um...that's...a secret," mumbled Sneeze.

Henry looked at him closely. "Okay, whatever. Just go away, or I'll tattle on you, I really will!"

Sneeze glared at him, threw the rest of the light bulbs onto Nelson's head, and zoomed away.

"Watch out for Sneeze," Henry warned. "The Bleeding Baron is the only one that can control him. And here we are!"

They had stopped in front of a giant portrait of a very fat cat. It looked up as Henry approached it. "Password?" it meowed lazily.

"Tuna fish," said Henry. The Fat Cat nodded, and the whole portrait swung forward to reveal an opening in the wall. They all climbed through it and found themselves in the Diffindor living room. It was filled with red squashy armchairs and couches, and there was a roaring fire in the fireplace.

Henry showed the girls their dorm and the boys theirs. At the top of a spiral staircase, they went through a door that said _First Years_ and found their beds: Five four-poster beds with dark red curtains. Harold found his trunk in front of a bed and dressed in his pajamas. He climbed into bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

He had a very weird dream. He was wearing Professor Quiddle's turban, and it kept yelling at him.

"Why aren't you in Hisserin?" it snapped angrily. "You _have _to be in Hisserin! It's your destiny!"

"I don't care!" yelled Harold. "I like Diffindor! Hisserin is evil!"

"Oh, yeah?" mocked the turban.

"Yeah!" said Harold. "You want to make something of it?"

"With pleasure!"

Harold punched the turban over and over as hard as he could, but each time felt like he was punching his head. To add insult to injury, the turban was repeatedly slapping him across the face with the end of its wrapping, and despite being a piece of fabric, felt like a ton of bricks. And Snalfoy was standing next to him, laughing his head off, and then he turned into the hooked nosed teacher, Snake, whose laugh got higher and higher until there was a flash of green light and Harold woke up with cold sweat.

He rolled over and fell asleep, and when he woke up the next morning he couldn't remember the dream at all.

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**I had fun writing about Dunderbore! Heehee! Now please review, or I'll send Sneeze to throw suspicious light bulbs at your head!**


	8. Professor Snake

**Chapter 8 is up! This one was shorter than I'm used to. Thank God, I need a break. Watch as Harold faces the challenges of getting to class on time, dealing with different teachers' personalities, and people pointing and whispering at him. Disclaimers: I do not own the "sing the lyrics" doors, the Pigzits teachers or classes, Professor Quiddle's garlic stash, Nelson's exploded cauldron, Hagger's hard cookies, or Hagger's My Little Pony quilt (surprised?). Haha. READ NOW!

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Chapter 8: Professor Snake

"Look over there!"

"Where?"

"Next to that kid with the red hair!"

"With the glasses?"

"Did you see the scar?"

"Yeah!"

Harold was surrounded by whispers and stares the second he left his dormitory the next day. People would scrutinize him as they were lined up by the doors to their classes, or double back in the hallways so they could have an excuse to pass him again. Harold wished they would stop, because he was under enough stress trying to get to all of his classes.

There were a hundred and fifty-one staircases in Pigzits; wide marble ones, narrow wooden ones, ones that led somewhere else on a Sunday, and ones that had a quicksand step that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that only opened if you said please, or if you solved a corny riddle, or if it asked you to sing the lyrics to a certain song. Harold had failed trying to sing "Tik Tok", "Whadaya Want From Me", and "My First Kiss". He suspected that it was either the same door he kept running into, and that it was having a lot of fun watching him try remember the lyrics, or the first door that had failed him had friends all over the castle. It was hard to remember where everything was, because the people in the pictures kept going to visit each other, and Harold guessed that the suits of armor walked around regularly.

The ghosts were no help either. Harold had almost suffered a heart attack every time one of them suddenly popped out of the wall in front of him. Almost Noseless Rick was happy to help anyone find the right classroom, but Sneeze was worth two "sing the lyrics" doors and an entire quicksand staircase if you bumped into him while you were late for class. He would pelt you with more mysterious light bulbs, squirt ketchup in your face with the ketchup bottle from last night's dinner, jump out of a suit of armor in front of you, leave marbles on the floor so you would trip, or sneak up behind you, invisible, jump on your head, and scream, "GOT YOUR SKULL!"

Even worse than Sneeze, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Arthur Filth. Harold and Don managed to get on his bad side the very first morning. He caught them trying to open the door to what happened to be the forbidden third floor hallway. He didn't believe them when they said that they were lost, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when Professor Quiddle, who was passing by, rescued them.

Filth also owned a cat called Mrs. Morris, a skinny brown tabby with huge, lamp-like eyes just like her master. She patrolled the hallways alone, looking for suspicious students. Do anything even remotely wrong, and she'd race away, returning with Filth minutes later. Every student's dearest wish was to grab Mrs. Morris's tail and yank hard.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. Harold quickly realized that magic wasn't just waving your wand and saying a few strange words.

They studied the night sky through telescopes every Wednesday at midnight, learning the names of different stars and constellations, and memorize the movements of the planets. They went out to the greenhouses on the grounds to study Herbology three times every week. Professor Spout, a plump witch who was always covered in dirt, leaves, and moss, taught them the names of different magical plants and how to take care of them.

The most boring class that everyone had to take was History of Magic, taught by a ghost named Professor Bings. He had died in his sleep in front of the fire in the staffroom, but still came back to teach. He was famous for his never-ending lectures, where students tried to take notes without falling into a coma.

Professor Fitflick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little man who had to stand on a stack of books to be able to see over his desk. He started the class by taking the roll call, and when he called Harold's name, he screamed like a girl meeting Justin Beiber and fainted off of his stack of books.

When Harold had guessed that Professor McGummable didn't have a sense of humor, he was right. The moment everyone entered the classroom she gave them all a talking-to.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complicated, dangerous, and stressful magic you will learn here at Pigzits," she said. "If any of you decided to goof off in my class, I will personally kick your butt out the door."

And she changed her desk into a cow and back again. Despite the threat, they were all very excited and couldn't wait to begin, but they soon realized that they wouldn't be changing furniture into animals for a long time. After listening to a lecture and taking many confusing notes, they were set to the task of changing a match into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Heidi Grace had been able to do it. She positively glowed with pride as Professor McGummable showed the class how her match had turned silver and pointy, giving her a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quiddle's lessons were a joke. The whole room was filled with the smell of garlic, which everyone said was to ward of a vampire he had met somewhere in Washington state. Quiddle told the class that his turban had been given to him by the President of the United States as a thank-you for saving his life from a zombie, but Harold wasn't sure he believed this story. Sean had asked Quiddle eagerly how he had defeated the zombie, but Quiddle had gone red and started talking about the water cycle. Harold realized that Quiddle's turban smelled weird, too, and the Weezy twins insisted it was because Quiddle had stuffed garlic in it so he would be protected wherever he went.

Harold was awfully relieved when he realized that he wasn't behind everyone else. Many kids had come from Shmuggle families and hadn't had any idea that they were witches or wizards, like him. There was so much to learn that even people like Don didn't have a head start on everybody else. So Harold and Don considered Friday to be a very important day, as they had made their way down to the Great Dining Room without getting lost once.

"What classes today?" Harold asked Don while pouring syrup onto his waffles.

"Double Potions with the Hisserins," said Don gloomily. "Snake is Head of Hisserin House. All the Hisserins say he gives them special treatment."

"No fair!" Harold complained. "Why doesn't McGummable do that to us?" Professor McGummable was Head of Diffindor House, but that didn't stop her from giving the first years an enormous pile of homework to do almost every night.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harold was used to it now, but on his first morning, he was pretty shocked when over a hundred owls came flying into the Great Dining Room, swooping low over the tables and giving their letters to the correct person. Helga hadn't brought Harold a letter yet, but she would occasionally come to see him and take a drink of his orange juice before going for a nap in the Owlery. But today, Harold saw her swooping towards him with a letter clasped in her claws. She landed on the butter dish and held out her leg so Harold could untie the letter. Once it was free, he ripped open the envelope and opened the letter. A very untidy scrawl read:

_Dear Harold,_

_I know that you get Friday afternoons off, so why don't you come down to my hut and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week at Pigzits! Send me an answer back with Helga._

_Hagger_

Don gave Harold a quill, and he quickly scribbled, _I'll be there, thanks, see you later _onto the back of the letter and tied it back to Helga's leg. She hooted and was off.

It was lucky that Harold had tea with Hagger to look forward to, because the Potions lesson ended up being the worst thing that happened to him so far. At the start-of-the-marking-period feast, Harold had guessed that Professor Snake didn't like him. But by the end of his first potions lesson, a new theory had entered his mind: Snake didn't just not like Harold, he _hated_ him.

The classroom was located in one of the dungeons. It was cold and creepy enough without all the pickled animals floating in glass jars that Snake had decorated the room with. He started the class with the roll call, like Fitflick, and reacted to Harold's name, like Fitflick.

"Ah. Harold Plodder," he sneered. "It seems we have a celebrity in our class this year."

Snalfoy, Krabby, and Boyle snorted behind their hands. Snake finished the roll call and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagger's, but were cold and evil-looking instead of warm and twinkling.

"Now, does anyone know why we are here?" he whispered. He scanned the room, glaring at everyone. "Plodder!" he snapped suddenly. "Why are we here?"

"So we can learn how to make potions?" guessed Harold.

"Wrong," Snake snarled. "You are here to learn the exact art and subtle science of potion making."

"That's the same thing!" Harold protested.

"No it's not!" said Snake. "There is no thoughtless wand-waving here! Not many of you will be able to appreciate the beauty of the softly-simmering caldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids seeping through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death -" he stopped suddenly, his face full of fury. Half the class had fallen asleep. Heidi Grace was not among them, but was shooting glares at the remaining students who's eyes were closing.

"WAKE UP!" roared Snake. The students who were sleeping jerked awake. Snake glared around the room again, his chest heaving. "Now that you are all _paying attention_, we can play _Let's See Who Didn't Bother to Open Their Books This Summer._ Plodder!" he barked again, glaring at Harold. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

_Powdered root of what to an infusion of what?_ thought Harold. "I don't know," he said out loud. He glanced at Don, who looked as stumped as he was, and then at Heidi, whose hand had shot in the air. Snake ignored her and continued to stare at Harold.

"Try again. Where would you look if I told you to get me a bezoar?" he snapped.

Heidi's hand stretched higher. Harold was still coming up with nothing. "I don't know," he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snalfoy, Krabby, and Boyle laughing silently. His temper rose.

"How about this," said Snake, still ignoring Heidi. "What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harold's anger peaked. "No idea," he said loudly. "Why don't you ask Heidi? After all, she's had her hand raised for almost five minutes."

The Diffindors laughed. Sean winked at Harold. Snake, however, was not happy.

"_Sit down!_" he hissed at Heidi. He turned to Harold. "For your information, Plodder, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is called the Draught of the Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and will save you from most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, and also goes by the name of aconite." He glared at the class, and after a few moments, whispered, "Well? Why aren't you all _copying this down?_"

Everyone quickly took out their quills and parchment, except for Heidi, who was already scribbling furiously. Snake looked at Harold again. "And five points will be taken from Diffindor for your lack of knowledge, Plodder."

The lesson continued. Snake put them into pairs and instructed them to make an easy potion to cure boils. He stalked around the room criticizing everyone except Snalfoy, who he seemed to like. Suddenly a giant green cloud filled the room, along with the sounds of hissing. Nelson had melted his cauldron. The whole class was standing on their chairs in seconds as the exposed potion seeped across the floor. Nelson cried out in pain as giant red boils sprouted on his face, since he had been splashed with the potion when the cauldron had melted.

"You moron!" snarled Snake, clearing away the potion with a lazy wave of his wand. "Did you add the porcupine quills before taking your cauldron off of the fire?"

Nelson whimpered as boils started sprouting on his nose.

"Go to the hospital wing," said Snake. "Shimmigan, escort him." Then he rounded on Harold.

"Plodder!" he spat. "Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought it would make you look better if he messed up worse than you? That's another five points you've lost for Diffindor."

This was so unfair that Harold opened his mouth to argue, but Don kicked him in the shin. "Shut it," he whispered. "Snake can turn nasty."

When Harold climbed the steps out of the dungeons an hour later, his mind was racing. He had already lost ten points for Diffindor for no reason at all. Why did Snake hate him so much?

"Calm down, Snake's always taking points off of Ed and Gordy," said Don. "Can I come with you to Hagger's?"

"Sure," said Harold. They left the castle at five of three and made their way down to a small wooden hut at the edge of the forest. As they got closer, they saw a crossbow and a pair of boots at the front door.

When Harold knocked he heard frantic scratching from inside and booming barks. Then Hagger's voice roared, "_Move,_ Tooth,get outta the way!"

Hagger's face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hold on a sec," he said, turning around. "Tooth, _move! NOW!_" He opened the door wider and motioned with one hand for Harold and Don to come in, while he struggled to hold onto a giant white and brown bulldog with the other. It was almost as large as a rottweiler.

There was only one room inside. A copper kettle was sitting over the fireplace. Several chickens and hams were hanging from the ceiling. A My Little Pony quilt was draped over an enormous bed in the corner.

"Make yerselves at home," he grunted, letting go of Tooth, who raced over to Don and started licking his face.

"This is Don," said Harold, petting Tooth's head. Tooth closed his eyes lazily.

"Yer another Weezy kid, aren't yeh?" growled Hagger. "I wasted half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest." He put a pile of cookies onto a plate and put it on the table in front of Harold and Don. "Now tell me about yer first week."

The cookies were filled with chocolate chips that almost broke their teeth when they bit into them, but Harold and Don pretended to be enjoying them while they told Hagger all about their classes. Tooth rested his head on Harold's knees and drooled all over his pants. When the talk turned to Filth, they were delighted when Hagger called him "that moron".

"And someday I'm gonna introduce Tooth to Mrs. Morris," he growled. "She follows me everywhere every time I go up ter the castle. It annoys the hell outta me."

When Harold complained to Hagger about how much Snake abused him during potions class, Hagger told him not to worry about it, that Snake abused every student.

"But he really seemed to hate my guts!" cried Harold.

"That's ridiculous!" said Hagger. "Why should he?" But he didn't meet Harold eyes when he said it. "How's yer brother Charles?" he asked Don. "Always liked him - was great with magical creatures, that one."

While Don told Hagger what Charles was doing lately, Harold picked up a newspaper that was laying on the table. He brushed the cookie crumbs off of it and read:

**The Latest on Stringotts' Break-In**

Investigations are still being conducted on the break-in at Stringotts on July 31. Many believe that it was the work of a Dark witch or wizard. The Stringotts goblins insisted that nothing was taken, and that the vault in question had been emptied earlier that day.

"But don't bother asking what was in there, 'cause we're not telling you!" snapped a Stringotts spokesgoblin afternoon.

Harold suddenly had a flashback of Don telling him that someone had broken into Stringotts on the Pigzits Express.

"Hagger!" Harold yelled so suddenly that Hagger jumped a foot in the air, grunting loudly. "That break-in happened on my birthday! It might of happened while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagger definitely didn't meet Harold's eyes this time. Instead, he looked away and offered him another hard cookie. Harold read the article again. _The vault in question had been emptied earlier that day._ Hagger had removed the grubby package from vault eight million, seven hundred sixty thousand, five hundred and fifty-four. Had that been the thieves' target?

As Harold and Don walked back to the castle for dinner, questions were zooming around Harold's head like a swarm of bees. Had Hagger taken the package just in time? Where was it now? And what did he know about Snake that he didn't want to tell Harold?

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**Haha! Um...so that's it. Pretty short, huh? I'm happy, because as I said, I NEED A BREAK! I HAVE A LIFE! Keep watching for chapter 9! But be patient please! And review, or I'll send Snake to take points from you for no reason. ;)**


	9. Flying Lessons and Midnight Excursions

**Hello world! Here is chapter 9 of my story. Join Harold and his friends (and enemies) as they experience their first flying lesson, and also do quite a bit of nighttime wandering. Disclaimers: I do not own any flying broomsticks, the You-Forgot-Reminder-Ball, any position on the Quippish teams, the Wizard's Fight, Heidi's quick spellwork, or the three-headed animal (I'll let you find out for yourself what animal it is). Enjoy reading!

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Chapter 9: Flying Lessons and Midnight Excursions

Harold had never believed that he would hate someone more than he hated Spudley, but that was before he met Drake Snalfoy. But they didn't have to see him too often, as the only class they shared with the Hisserins was Potions. At least, it was until the first years saw a flyer pinned up on the Diffindor notice board. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday, and the Diffindors would be learning with the Hisserins.

"Figures," muttered Harold when he saw the sign. "This is what I've been hoping for. To crash my broomstick in front of Snalfoy." He had been looking forward to flying a broomstick more than anything else.

"You won't crash," said Don. "At least, I don't think you will. Anyway, I've heard Snalfoy going on about how he's such an amazing flyer, but I'll bet he's lying for the ladies."

"Don, we're only eleven!" said Harold uncomfortably.

"Yes, I know," said Don loftily. "But he's got the right idea, getting a head start like that…."

Snalfoy did boast about his flying skills a lot. He told stories to anyone who would listen, and these stories usually ended with him narrowly escaping Shmuggles in airplanes. He wasn't the only one; Sean Shimmigan declared that he had spent nearly his whole life circling skyscrapers on his broomstick, and even Don said that he had almost hit a kid's kite while flying Charles's old broom. Quippish was a constant subject to talk about for wizarding families. Don got into a big argument with Ian Thompson, another Diffindor first year, about basketball. Don couldn't see what was so great about a sport that had only one ball and where no one was allowed to fly. Harold even saw him poking Ian's Boston Celtics basketball poster with his wand, trying to make the players move.

Nelson had never rode a broomstick in his life, probably because his grandmother had never let him near one. He was extremely accident-prone, and Harold guessed that being in the air wouldn't help him one bit.

Heidi Grace was almost as nervous about flying as Nelson was. Riding a broomstick was not something you could learn from a book - not that Heidi didn't try. She read and re-read a book called _Quippish Through the Ages_, and would read tips out loud to everyone within ten feet of her. Nelson hung onto every word she said, but everyone else was extremely relieved when her lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harold looked up, more to watch the owls in general than to watch for one approaching him. He had not received any letters since Hagger's invitation to tea. Snalfoy, however, got daily packages delivered to him by his eagle owl, which brought sweets from his parents at home.

A barn owl landed in front of Nelson and dropped a small box in his cereal bowl. He opened it excitedly and held up a small glass ball that was filled with white smoke.

"It's a You-Forgot-Reminder-Ball!" he exclaimed. "Granny knows how many things I forget every day - look, see the smoke inside? When it turns red - oh," he said, as the smoke suddenly turned crimson, "you've forgotten something."

Nelson's face was screwed up in concentration as he tried to remember what he'd forgotten when Drake Snalfoy, who was passing by, seized the You-Forgot-Reminder-Ball from his hands.

Harold and Don jumped out of their seats, hoping for a chance to beat him up, but Professor McGummable, who could sense trouble quicker than any teacher Harold had ever known, was there in a second.

"What's going on here?"

"Snalfoy stole my You-Forgot-Reminder-Ball!" cried Nelson.

Snalfoy glared at him, and reluctantly handed over the glass ball. "I just wanted to see," he muttered, and traipsed back to the Hisserin table.

At three-thirty that afternoon, the Diffindor first years made their way onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. The day was nice and sunny, with a slight breeze rippling the grass. Soon they saw the smooth, flat field in which they'd be practicing. The Hisserins were already there, along with about twenty brooms laying in two rows on the ground. Harold remembered Ed and Gordy complaining about the school brooms, saying that some bounced up and down if you flew too high, and others always veered slightly to the right.

Their teacher, Madam Hoops, came striding across the lawn and stopped in front of the two rows of brooms. She had gray spiky hair and hawk-like blue eyes.

"Well, don't just stand there gossiping!" she barked. "Everyone pick a broom and stand at its left side."

Harold got into position and looked down at his broom. It was old and had twigs sticking out everywhere.

"Now, stick your right hand over your broom, and say, 'Up!'"

"UP!" bellowed the class.

Harold's jumped into his hand at once, but not many people's brooms seemed to be cooperating. Heidi's broom rolled over on the ground, and Harold could hear frustration in her voice as she snapped, "UP! UP!" Nelson's broom hadn't moved at all, and Harold guessed that brooms could sense when you were afraid. Nelson's quiet "up" clearly said that he wanted to stay on the ground.

Madam Hoops then walked up and down the rows, showing them how to mount their brooms and correcting their grips. Harold and Don sniggered when they heard her tell Snalfoy that he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now when I blow my whistle," called Madam Hoops, "kick off from the ground. Rise up a few feet, keeping your brooms steady, and then lean forward slightly to touch back down. That's _all._ No crazy stunts yet, you understand? On my whistle, three, two -"

"WAA!" cried Nelson. He had accidentally kicked the ground out of nervousness, and his broom was rising up at a fast pace.

"Hey, you!" yelled Madam Hoops. "Come back! I SAID NO CRAZY STUNTS!"

Nelson was rising higher and higher. Ten feet - twenty feet - Harold could just make out his scared white face as he slipped sideways off his broom and plummeted towards the ground. With a loud THUMP and a _crack_, Nelson landed on the grass. Harold looked up and saw his broom doing lazy loops in the air, heading for the Big Scary Forest.

"You've broken your wrist," muttered Madam Hoops, bending over Nelson, her face white. "Come on, get up, I'll take you to the hospital wing." She helped him up and turned to the rest of the class. "If I see one broom in the air when I get back, that person will be kicked out of Pigzits before you can say 'Quippish!'" And with that, she put her arm around Nelson and they hobbled out of sight.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Snalfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his chubby face?"

The other Hisserins joined in.

"Shut your trap, Snalfoy," snapped Penelope McGill.

"Aw, sticking up for Wrongbottom?" mocked Sandy Starkinson. "Never knew you like fat crybabies, Penelope."

"Well, you learn something new every day," said Don. Penelope shot him a look.

"Hey, check this out!" cried Snalfoy, darting forward and picking something up off the lawn. "It's that weird glass thing his granny sent him."

The You-Forgot-Reminder-Ball glistened in the sunlight.

"Give it back, Snalfoy," said Harold quietly. Everyone shut up at once to watch. Snalfoy grinned.

"I think I'll drop it off somewhere for Wrongbottom to find. How about - oh, I don't know - on the roof?"

"Give it _back!_" yelled Harold, but Snalfoy had already mounted his broomstick. A moment later he was in the air. He wasn't lying; he _could_ fly well. "Come and get it, Plodder! If you want to be a grease spot on the grass!"

Harold patience snapped. He put his right hand over his broom and roared, "UP!" The broom flew into his hand.

"_No!_" cried Heidi Grace. "You heard what Madam Hoops said, didn't you? Do you _want_ to be thrown out? _Well?_ Do you? _Do you?_"

"SHUT UP!" bellowed Harold, and in one swift movement mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground. Up and up he soared, and as he left the ground so did his fear; this was _awesome. _He pulled back on the handle to fly even higher. The girls below screamed with admiration and Don whooped with joy.

"Oh my God, look at him go!"

"He's so _hot!_"

"When you get back down, can you sign my schoolbag?"

"_Wow,_ Harold!" yelled Don's voice. "You're getting _lots _of points! _How do you do that?_"

Harold grinned and waved a hand. There were squeals and sighs from the girls and laughter from the boys. He looked at Snalfoy, and was delighted to see he was stunned.

"Give it back, Snail-foy, or I'll knock you out of the air!" Harold roared, and the boys laughed again.

"Don't call me that!" snapped Snalfoy angrily. "And I'd like to see you try!"

"Okay then," said Harold, somehow knowing what to do. He leaned forward on his broom, gripping it tightly in his hands, and it shot towards Snalfoy like a rocket. Snalfoy barely got out of the way in time. Harold turned back around to face him again, the whoops and cheers of the other first years acting as a stimulant.

"You don't have your fat bodyguards up here, Snail-foy!" he taunted. Snalfoy's face whitened.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he screamed, and threw the You-Forgot-Reminder-Ball as hard as he could before pelting towards the ground.

As if in slow motion, the glass ball arched up in the air, and then began to fall. Harold flattened himself out on his broom and began to dive - the wind was whistling in his ears, rippling his hair - the crowd was screaming below - he stretched out a hand and caught the ball a foot above the ground, and had just enough time to level out before he stopped the broomstick and jumped off.

"HAROLD PLODDER!"

His heart plummeted faster than his dive. He looked up and saw Professor McGummable running towards him, shaking her head.

"_Never _- in my entire career at Pigzits -"

She seemed speechless with shock, and her eyes were flashing furiously behind her glasses.

"How _dare _you - could've cracked your head open - AAARG!"

She had tripped over her feet and fell flat on her stomach. The Diffindor girls hurried forward and helped her back up.

"Thank you, thank you," she gasped, brushing the dirt off of her robes. Then she strode towards Harold.

"Professor, _please,_ it wasn't his fault -"

"Yes it was," growled Heidi.

"But Snalfoy took -"

"Be quiet, McGill, Weezy. Plodder, you come with me. _Now._"

Harold followed Professor McGummable back across the lawn, feeling as though he were falling into a pit of depression. He was going to be expelled, he knew it. He would be packing his suitcase in twenty minutes. He hadn't even lasted two weeks! He had to jog to keep up with Professor McGummable, who wasn't even looking at him. Harold felt a lump in his throat as he imagined what the Durskeys would say when he arrived on their doorstep.

They went up the front steps, up the marble staircase, and still no means of communication passed between them. Professor McGummable threw open doors so hard they banged against the wall. Maybe she was taking him to Dunderbore. Maybe, if Dunderbore was in a good mood, Harold would be able to stay and help Hagger with the gamekeeper job. He thought of watching Don and the others become wizards while he followed Hagger around, carrying his giant overcoat.

Finally, Professor McGummable stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and peeked in.

"Professor Fitflick? Can I see Woody for a minute?"

_Woody?_ thought Harold, bewildered. Was she talking about the cowboy doll that was in the Toy Story movies? What did that have to do with _him?_

But Woody turned out to be a person, a buff fifth year. He came out of the classroom looking confused.

"Come with me, you two," said Professor McGummable, and they followed, Woody staring at Harold. She led them into a classroom that was empty except for Sneeze, who was busy writing swear words on the chalkboard with the ketchup's squirt bottle.

"Get out, Sneeze!" bellowed Professor McGummable. Sneeze glared at her, squirted the last of the ketchup in the air, dropped the bottle, and flew through the wall, cackling. She, Harold, and Woody all ducked to avoid the stream of falling condiment. When it had all splattered to the floor, Professor McGummable motioned for them to sit down.

"Harold, this is Olive Woody - he's captain of the Diffindor Quippish team. Woody - I've found you a Looker!"

"Eww!" cried Harold. "I don't want to be a looker!"

"No, no, no," said Woody, whose expression had gone from confusion to delight. "It's a position on the Quippish team. Are you serious, Professor?"

"Totally," said Professor McGummable. "Harold's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Plodder?"

"Yes," said Harold. He had no idea what was happening, but he had a feeling that they weren't expelling him.

"He caught a You-Forgot-Reminder-Ball in his hand in a fifty foot dive. Didn't even hurt himself. Charles Weezy couldn't have done it." said Professor McGummable.

Woody was now looking as though Christmas had come early.

"Have you ever seen a Quippish match, Plodder?" he asked, scrutinizing Harold. "You've got just the right body to be a Looker, too."

Harold was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable.

"We'll have to get him a good broom too, Professor," said Woody, now pacing in front of Harold. "How 'bout a Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand?"

"I'll talk to Dunderbore about it. We'll see if we can bend the first year rule. We do need a better team than the one last year - we got _crushed_ by the Hisserin team, I couldn't look Samuel Snake in the face for months…"

Professor McGummable peered sternly at Harold through her glasses.

"I'd better hear that you're training hard, Plodder, or I might change my mind about punishing you, you understand?"

"Oh - yes, Professor!" said Harold. Then she suddenly smiled at him.

"You dad was an amazing Quippish player, too, you know. He'll be proud of you."

"_You're kidding!"_ gasped Don at dinner that night. Harold had just told him what had happened after Professor McGummable had taken him from the flying lesson.

"Nope, not kidding," said Harold with a huge grin on his face.

"You're gonna be a Looker!" cried Don excitedly. "You must be the youngest Looker in - in -"

"A century," Harold said. "Professor McGummable told me." He spooned spaghetti into his mouth during Don's stunned silence.

"I start to train next week," he mumbled around his food. "Don't tell anyone. Woody wants to keep it a secret."

Ed and Gordy hurried into the Great Dining Room, spotted Harold, and took the available seats across from him.

"Nice one!" whispered Ed. "Gordy and I are on the team too - we're Pounders."

"You must be good, too," said Gordy. "Woody was skipping like a girl when he told us. He _never_ does that."

"Anyway, we've got to go," said Ed. "Steve Gordon thinks he found another secret passageway out of the school, but we need to see it for ourselves. See ya!"

Almost as soon as they left, three more people turned up: Snalfoy, Krabby, and Boyle.

"Aww, is this your last meal, Plodder?" sneered Snalfoy. "When are you getting back on the subway?"

"So you suddenly have the guts to insult me now that you're on the ground?" said Harold coldly. "Or is it because Fatso and Chubs are with you?" Krabby and Boyle cracked their knuckles and glared at him, but they couldn't do anything else in case the teachers saw.

"I can beat you up all by myself anytime," growled Snalfoy. "Let's go tonight. Wizard's Fight. Wands only - no punching, kicking, pinching -" he shuddered, obviously remembering the subway ride, "- or anything of that nature. Haven't you ever heard of a Wizard's Fight before?"

"Of course he has!" snapped Don. "I'm his second - which one of those buffoons is yours?"

Snalfoy stared at Krabby and Boyle, clearly sizing them up. "Krabby," he said finally. "Meet us in the award room at midnight; they never lock it." And they stalked back to the Hisserin table.

"Um, what's a Wizard's Fight?" asked Harold. "And what does 'you're my second' mean?"

"A second takes over if the Fighter dies," said Don casually.

"_What?_" said Harold. "I'm going to _die?_"

"I really doubt it," said Don. "The most you and Snalfoy will be able to do is send sparks flying at each other. That won't kill you."

"But what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?" asked Harold nervously.

"Throw it away and use your pinching skills," Don suggested. "They were pretty awesome on the train, did you see how much you scared Snalfoy?"

"Excuse me!" It was Heidi.

"Can't anyone have a simple conversation without being interrupted?" snapped Don in outrage. Heidi ignored him and looked at Harold.

"I couldn't help listening in to what you and Snalfoy are planning -"

"Liar," muttered Don.

"- but it seems to me that you could get into a lot of trouble if you're caught! You're lucky that you didn't get punished for flying that broomstick! How can you even _think_ of breaking more rules? You'll lose lots of points from Diffindor!"

"This is none of your bees guts, Heidi," said Harold.

"Now _go away,_" growled Don.

Harold lay in bed that night, listening to Ian and Sean's snores (Nelson wasn't back from the hospital wing). Heidi's voice was repeating her warnings in his head over and over. He knew she was right, that he shouldn't be breaking rules, but Snalfoy's face was also sneering at him in his mind, and he knew he had to take the chance; this was his opportunity to beat him face-to-face.

"It's eleven-thirty," murmured Don. "We should get going."

They pulled on their bathrobes (Harold's green and Don's red) and tiptoed down the stairs into the living room. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the armchair nearest to them, "So you're actually going to do this, Harold?"

A lamp flicked on. It was Heidi Grace, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.

"_You!_" hissed Don furiously. "Keep your nose out of our business and go to bed!"

"I will not," snapped Heidi. "Not when you're about to lose points from Diffindor! I almost told your brother, Henry. He would've put a stop to this!"

Harold was shocked that anyone could be so nosy.

"Ignore her," he muttered to Don, pushing him through the portrait hole. But Heidi wasn't about to give up so easily. She followed them, hissing continuously like a pissed-off cat.

"Don't you care about Diffindor _at all?_ Oh, whoops, that's a stupid question, of _course _you don't, you only care about _yourselves,_ isn't that right? If you get caught you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGummable for knowing about Switching Spells!"

"Well, you can earn us more, then," said Don. "It doesn't seem like a problem for you. Now go away."

"Fine," snapped Heidi, glaring at them, "but when you're on the subway home tomorrow, you just remember what I said, you idiots!"

She turned around to go back through the portrait, but found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Cat had gone for a walk and Heidi was locked out of Diffindor Tower.

"Hey! Come back!" wailed Heidi. She kicked the portrait and swore loudly, holding her foot. "Now what am I supposed to do?"

"Sulk," said Don. "Meanwhile, we have an appointment to keep!"

He and Harold walked away from Heidi. They hadn't even reached the end of the hallway when she caught up with them. "I'm coming with you."

"Ew! No you're not!" cried Don.

"I'll tell you what I'm not doing," growled Heidi. "Sitting outside the portrait all night waiting for the Fat Cat. The ground is hard and cold!"

"Aww. Well, sorry your butt's going to freeze to death if it has to sit on a hardwood floor for once," snapped Don.

"Shut up, both of you, I can hear something!" hissed Harold. When they quieted, he could clearly hear moans coming from up ahead.

"Hello?" said Don. They crept forward, and saw a dark shape curled up on the floor. It was Nelson.

"Harold! Don! Oh, thank God you've found me!" he cried. "I forgot the password to Diffindor Tower, so I had to wait out here for _hours._"

"Shush, Nelson," said Harold. "The password's 'catnip', but the Fat Cat's gone off somewhere, so you'll have to wait a little longer. How's your arm?"

"Fine," sniffed Nelson. "Madam Plumfry healed it in about a minute."

"Great," said Don. "So, we'll see you later, Nelson, we've got to be somewhere -"

"No! Don't leave me here!" he wailed. "I can't stand being here all alone, the Bleeding Baron tortured me twice already, please don't leave!"

Don looked at his watch and then glared at him and Heidi. "If either of you people gets us caught, I won't rest until I figure out how to pinch like Harold does, and then I'll pinch you until you're black and blue!"

"Or you can just let me do it," supplied Harold. "C'mon, let's go, we've wasted enough time already."

They raced through the hallways as quietly as possible. Harold's heart thumped every time they turned a corner, expecting to see Filth or Mrs. Morris, but they were lucky. Finally they reached the award room.

Snalfoy and Krabby weren't there yet. Harold looked around in awe. Ribbons, trophies, plaques, cups, plates, and statues rested on shelves all over the room. They pressed themselves against the wall, keeping their eyes on the doorways on either side of the room. Harold took out his wand.

"He's late," muttered Don. "Maybe he wet his pants on the way and went back to his living room." Harold was about to laugh when he heard a voice from the next room - and it wasn't Snalfoy.

"Keep sniffing, snookums, they could be hiding anywhere." It was Filth talking to Mrs. Morris. Harold was terrified.

"_Come on!_" he mouthed to the others. They tiptoed out of the other entrance to the room just as Filth entered. Harold thought that they might get away when suddenly Nelson cried "WAA!" and started to run. He smashed into Don, who toppled over and hit a suit of armor, which hit another one, and another one, and so on. The clanging and crashing was enough to wake up the whole castle and Hagger out in his hut.

"RUN!" roared Harold, and they sprinted down the hallway as fast as they could. Harold didn't dare try to look back for Filth in case it made him slow down. They raced around corners, ripped through hanging tapestries, thundered up and down staircases, until they found themselves next to the Charms classroom, which was miles away from the awards room. Harold stopped, his chest heaving, and leaned against the wall, the others gasping next to him.

"I - told - you - so," choked Heidi, clutching a stitch in her side. "I - _told - _you - so!"

"Which way is Diffindor Tower?" said Don. "We have to get back there fast!"

"Snalfoy tricked you, don't you get it yet?" hissed Heidi. "All he wanted was to get you chucked out, and he probably tattled to Filth that someone was going to be in the awards room tonight!"

Harold knew she was right. "Let's go," he said. They hadn't even walked ten steps when they encountered another problem. A classroom door opened in front of them and something shot out. It was Sneeze. When he saw the four of them, he started to laugh.

"Sneeze, shh! We'll get throw out!" whispered Harold.

"Aww, did you four have nightmares?" mocked Sneeze. "Are you looking for a teacher you can go crying to? You shouldn't be walking around this late, widdle first years. You might get in trouble…"

"Please, Sneeze, don't tell on us, please!"

"Should call Filth, it's for your own good, you know, just because you had scary nightmares doesn't give you the right to -"

"WE DIDN'T HAVE NIGHTMARES!" roared Don, swiping at Sneeze. That was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS WANDERING AROUND THE SCHOOL!" he screeched. "STUDENTS RUNNING AROUND IN THE CHARMS HALLWAY!"

The four of them ducked under Sneeze and ran for their lives. Harold saw a door at the end of the hallway, and raced towards it, but when he grabbed the doorknob it wouldn't turn. It was locked.

"No! Filth is gonna kill us!" wailed Don.

"Oh, shut up and get out of the way!" snapped Heidi. She pushed past Don, grabbed Harold's wand, pointed it at the door, and whispered, _"unlocky!" _The door clicked open, and they hurried inside.

"Ha ha, sounds like 'unlucky,'" sniggered Don. Heidi shot him a look. Harold pushed the door shut and they all pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Sneeze, where did they go?" wheezed Filth's voice.

"Say 'please!'"

"I'm not playing this game, Sneeze, now _where are they?_"

"I won't say where they are if you don't say please!" sang Sneeze.

"Fine! Please!" snarled Filth.

"WHERE THEY ARE! Ha ha ha, told you I wouldn't say where they are if you didn't say please! Got you! Ha ha haaaaa! Hee hee heeeee! Ho ho hoooooo!" And they heard the sound of Sneeze whooshing away and Filth swearing at the top of his voice.

"I don't think he'll come in here," whispered Harold. "He thinks the door is locked - Nelson, cut it out!" For Nelson had been yanking the sleeve of Harold's bathrobe for the last minute. "Why do you keep pulling my sleeve?"

He turned around - and saw, quite clearly, why. For a moment, he thought he had fallen asleep and was having a nightmare. This was too much on top of everything else.

They weren't in a room, but a hallway. The forbidden hallway on the third floor. And now, as Don and Heidi turned around and screamed in fear, they knew why it was forbidden.

Crouching in front of the four of them was an enormous, three-headed cat. It was so tall the heads almost touched the ceiling. There were three pairs of bright yellow eyes, three giant pink noses, and three hissing mouths with teeth as sharp as knives. Harold guessed that the only reason that they weren't dead yet was because they had surprised the monster, but it was quickly getting over that.

He reached out for the doorknob in a panic. Between Filth and being eaten by a three-headed cat, he'd take Filth.

The door opened and the four of them fell out of the hallway and onto the floor. They jumped back up, slammed the door shut, and raced away. Filth must have gone to look for them somewhere else. There was no sign of him as they sprinted back to Diffindor Tower. Luckily, the Fat Cat was back.

"Where the hell have you been?" it growled. "You four look like you've seen a monster!"

"None of your business - catnip, catnip," Harold gasped, and the portrait swung open. They scrambled through the hole and staggered into armchairs in the living room.

For a while, no one said a thing. Nelson looked as though he would never speak again. Then Don spoke.

"Why the _hell_ would anyone keep something like that in a school?" he said. "If any cat needs to go outside, that one does!"

Heidi jumped to her feet. It looked as though her temper was back.

"Do you even use your sense of sight?" she hissed. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" said Harold. "I was kind of preoccupied with its heads, actually."

"Very funny. It was standing on a trapdoor, you dope!" snapped Heidi. "Anyone who was smart like me would understand that it's guarding something important. And I hope you're happy; we could've all been eaten! Or worse, kicked out of Pigzits!"

"How is being kicked out worse than being eaten?" said Don incredulously.

"I'm going to bed," said Heidi. "And don't even think about dragging me around the castle ever again!" And with that, she was gone.

"We didn't drag her along!" cried Don in outrage. But Harold wasn't listening. Hadn't Hagger told him that the safest place to keep something other than Stringotts was Pigzits?

It looked as though Harold had figured out where the grubby package from eight million, seven hundred sixty thousand, five hundred and fifty-four was.

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**Hahaha! I love making Heidi sound mean! And Don is fun to write too. And I know that Harold isn't cocky or anything in the books, but I wanted him to be able to tease Snalfoy too. He deserves the chance, rite? Now review, or I'll lock you in the hallway with the three-headed cat and see how long you can stay alive! MWA HA HA HA! Yes, I have an evil side :-D**


	10. Halloween at Pigzits

**Hello! Sorry it took so long to upload this chapter. I was extremely busy, and I went on vacation. I told you I have a life! Jeez! Anyway, here's the latest installment of Harold's life. Join him as he learns about Quippish, attends more classes, and does crazy things on Halloween. Disclaimers: I do not own Cheerios (well, actually, there's some in my house right now, but I dont own the Cheerios in the story), the Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand, Woody's teaching skills, the spell to make objects fly, Professor Dunderbore's theories about the floor, and Shrek's new personality. READ!

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Chapter 10: Halloween at Pigzits

Snalfoy was shocked when he saw that Harold and Don were still at Pigzits the next day, looking exhausted but cheerful. Harold and Don had gotten over the shock and horrors of the previous night, and couldn't wait to have another adventure. Harold told Don about the mysterious package that seemed to move from Stringotts to Pigzits, and they spent lots of time betting on what would need so much protection. Since they didn't want to bet with money, they used Cheerios.

"I bet it's valuable or dangerous," said Don, pushing a small pile of Cheerios between him and Harold.

"Oh, yeah?" said Harold. "Well, I bet it's both!" And he poured out the rest of the Cheerios in the box and shoved the mound in front of Don.

Sadly, there was no clear victor, as they couldn't figure out what the object was without more clues.

Heidi and Nelson didn't care in the slightest what was under the trapdoor. All Nelson wanted to do was never go near the three headed cat again.

Heidi was now refusing to talk to Harold and Don, but she was such a bossy teacher's pet that they saw this as an additional benefit. All they wanted now was a way to get back at Snalfoy. And this way arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flew into the Great Dining Room with their letters, almost everyone's attention was caught by a long, thin package, carried by six big screech owls. Harold watched it with interest, and was astonished when the owls dropped it into his plate of waffles. Another owl dropped a letter in his orange juice. Harold fished it out, shook off the clinging beverage, ripped open the envelope, and read:

DO NOT OPEN THIS PACKAGE AT THE TABLE!

Inside is your new Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand, and if you open it here, all the other students will see it, and Professor Dunderbore and I will get pulsing headaches if they all come whining to us because they didn't get one, too. So please do us a favor and open it in your dormitory. Olive Woody will meet you on the Quippish field at seven o' clock tonight for your first training session.

Professor M. McGummable

"YAHOOOOOO!" cried Harold, jumping up and down in his seat.

"What? What happened?" asked Don, bewildered. Harold gave him the letter. His eyes grew round as he read what it said.

"You got a _Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand?_" he breathed. "Lucky! I've never even touched one! Can I touch it up in the dormitory? _Please?_"

"Of course you can!" said Harold. "Come on, let's go now."

They hurried out of the Great Dining Room. They hadn't even made it halfway up the marble staircase when they found their way barred by Snalfoy, Krabby, and Boyle. Snalfoy yanked the package out of Harold's hands and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he snapped, shoving the package back in Harold's arms.

"Well, no duh," said Harold. "You're pretty smart."

"I'll bet you'll get in trouble," Snalfoy snarled. "First years can't have broomsticks, don't you know the rules?"

"How many Cheerios?" asked Don, pulling handfuls out of his pocket. "I'll bet you all the ones I have he doesn't!"

Snalfoy stared at him.

"Hello, boys! You're not fighting, right?" said a voice. Professor Fitflick was coming up the staircase.

"Professor! Plodder got a broomstick!" Snalfoy blurted out.

"I can see that, Snalfoy," said Professor Fitflick. "Professor McGummable told me all about the special circumstances with you, Plodder. What model is it, again?"

"A Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand," said Harold, grinning broadly at the stunned look on Snalfoy's face. "And I'd like to thank you, Snalfoy," he said, facing him again. "Without you, I never would have got it." Without another word, he and Don strutted up the staircase, trying to hold in their laughter at Snalfoy's look of fury and confusion.

"It's true," said Harold, once they were out of earshot. "If Snalfoy hadn't stolen Nelson's You-Forgot-Reminder-Ball, I wouldn't have earned a spot on the team!"

"So now you think that this is a reward for violating the rules?" snapped a voice. Heidi was stomping up the stairs behind him, glaring at the package in Harold's hands.

"I thought you weren't talking to us!" said Harold.

"Yeah!" exclaimed Don. "Please don't stop now, we haven't had so much peace and quiet in ages!"

"Huh!" huffed Heidi. She pushed past them and marched away.

With no teachers or tattling students in sight, Harold and Don were able to run the rest of the way to Diffindor Tower. They raced up the stairs and into their dormitory, where Harold put the package on his bed and unwrapped it at last.

"Oh my God," whispered Don, as the broomstick rolled out of its wrappings.

Though Harold knew nothing about broomsticks, he knew that it looked magnificent. The handle was sleek and shiny, made of mahogany. It had a tail of straight, orderly twigs, and the words _Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand _were written in gold near the top.

"This is so not fair!" wailed Don. "Why can't _I_ have a Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand?"

"Because you didn't score enough points with certain women," said Harold slyly. Don stared at him, horrified.

"Dude, that is _so wrong_ in so many different ways," he groaned.

At quarter of seven, Harold carried the broomstick down the marble staircase and out onto the grounds. He had never seen the Quippish field before, and it was a magnificent sight. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands circling the perimeter of the field, high enough so the spectators could see all the action. Located at each end of the field were three tall poles with hoops on the end. For a moment Harold thought that they looked like the little plastic things that kids blew bubbles out of, except these hoops were no less than fifty feet high, and the plastic bubble sticks were about five inches high.

Harold didn't want to wait for Woody. He mounted his broom, kicked off from the ground, and rocketed high up in the air. His stomach dropped the higher and faster he went, but he didn't care. This broomstick seemed to read his mind as he flew, shooting off in any direction with the slightest touch. Harold whipped past the stands, then dived down, skimming the grass with the tips of his toes, then raced back up again and swirled through the goalposts and around their stands.

"Plodder! Hey! PLODDER!" yelled a voice. "Come down here!"

Harold, who was rocketing straight up into the clouds, just managed to hear him. He pulled back on his broom handle so hard that he flipped upside down and began to shoot backwards towards the ground. Faster and faster he went, cheering with joy. At the last second he pushed up on the handle and the Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand leveled out, his hair dragging through the grass, until it halted in midair. He let go and dropped to the ground. Fortunately, he only fell a couple inches. Unfortunately, he fell into a puddle of mud. SPLAT!

"ICK!" he cried, jumping up again.

"That was _awesome!_" howled Woody. "Where the _hell_ did you learn how to fly like _that?_ Isn't this only the second time you've ever flown a broom?"

"Yep," said Harold, trying to brush the mud off of himself.

Woody stared at him hungrily. He shook his head and said, "Wow. Okay. I'm going to teach you everything there is to know about Quippish. You ready?"

"I'm ready! I'm ready! I'm ready, ready, ready!" cried Harold, running in place. Woody stared at him again, this time with confusion.

"What?" said Harold. "It's from SpongeBob!"

"Who's SpongeBob?" said Woody curiously.

"Never mind," said Harold.

"Okay," said Woody, opening the crate at his feet that Harold hadn't seen before. "Are you ready?"

"I'm re - yes," said Harold. Woody nodded, sucking in a deep breath.

"There-are-seven-players-on-each-Quippish-team-three-Shooters-one-Blocker-two-Pounders-and-one-Looker-Shooters-take-a-ball-called-the-Quaddle-and-throw-it-into-one-of-those-hoops-the-Blocker-tries-to-stop-the-other-team's-Shooters-the-Pounders-have-bats-they-hit-balls-called-Spludgers-at-the-other-team's-players-and-the-Looker-has-to-avoid-all-the-chaos-and-search-for-the-Golden-Squish-whoever-team's-Looker-catches-the-Squish-first-earns-their-team-an-extra-one-thousand-five-hundred-points-and-the-game-ends-and-that-team-almost-always-wins!" He doubled over with his hand on his chest, gasping for air. After a few moments he straightened up again, smiling pleasantly. "Any questions?"

Harold's mind reeled. "Uh -"

"Great! I knew you'd have no trouble understanding!" said Woody happily. "Now we're going to do some practice. Get back in the air, and catch everything you see!"

Harold, still feeling dizzy with all the new information, zoomed back into the middle of the stadium. Woody took out a bag of golf balls and started chucking them all over the place. Harold raced up and down, left and right, catching every single one. Woody was ecstatic. He called Harold back to the ground and they piled the golf balls back into the bag.

"We're gonna win that Quippish Cup this year!" he cried. "You're a great Looker, Harold!"

Two more months passed. Harold couldn't believe it. Maybe it was because of having Quippish practices three days a week along with piles of homework every night. Pigzits felt more like his home than Pickle Drive ever had. Now that they had covered all the basics in his lessons, they were becoming more and more interesting.

When Harold and Don woke up to the smell of pumpkin pie, they couldn't wait to get to their Charms class. Professor Fitflick had announced that the students were ready to make objects fly. Everyone had been dying to try it ever since he had made Heidi's wand zoom around the classroom while she chased after it, screaming, "STOP IT! STOP IT! GIVE IT BACK!" When they were all settled in their seats, he paired them up for practice. Sean Shimmigan was Harold's partner, which was a good thing, because Nelson had been trying to get to Harold before anyone else. Fortunately, Sean was right next to him, so he grabbed him instead. However, Don was paired with Heidi Grace, and Harold could tell they were both extremely pissed about it.

"Make sure you do that cute little wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Fitflick. "Bounce three times, swirl your wand in the air, and jab! And for God's sake, say the words right, will you? If you don't - well, bad things will happen."

It wasn't as exciting as Harold expected. No matter how many times he and Sean bounced, swirled, jabbed, and said the magic words, the stupid feather stayed on the desk. Sean ended up getting so pissed off that he banged his wand on the feather and accidentally set it on fire. Harold had to blow on it for ten minutes while Sean screamed and ran to the other end of the room.

Don didn't seem to be having any good fortune either.

"_Flutterbee Hoveree!" _he yelled. His wrist movements looked like ones a conductor might use.

"Oh my God," groaned Heidi. "Stop it right now! You're embarrassing me! You're putting stress on the wrong syllables. It's Flutter-_bee_ _Hov-_eree, not Flut-_ter_-bee Hov-_er-_ee! Jeez!"

"Well, sor-_ree_," snapped Don. "Fine. You do it then, smarty pants."

Heidi cracked her knuckles, bounced her wrist three times, swirled the wand, and jabbed it at the feather, saying, "_Flutterbee Hoveree!"_

The feather shot straight up towards the ceiling and stuck there. Professor Fitflick let out a whoop.

"Wow! That was great, Miss Grace!" he cried. "Was everyone watching that? Notice that some spells are influenced by the caster's - uh - moods," he added, glancing up at the feather. It was still stuck to the ceiling.

Don was in a bad mood by the end of the class.

"No wonder no one can stand her!" he yelled angrily as they made their way to their next class. "She's a bushy-haired, bucktoothed, long-nosed teacher's pet!"

Someone pushed passed Harold so fast he was knocked into the wall. It was Heidi. Harold was stunned to see tears running down her face.

"Don, you idiot!" he hissed. "I'll bet she heard you!"

"Ooh, another bet!" said Don, shoving his hands into his pockets. "How many Cheerios?"

Harold socked him in the stomach.

Heidi didn't come to the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. While Harold and Don walked down to the Great Dining Room for the Halloween Feast, they eavesdropped on Penelope McGill telling her friend Lily that Heidi was crying in the girls bathroom, and threw wads of toilet paper soaked with her tears at anyone who dared to disturb her. Don was actually looking like he felt bad at this, but they stopped thinking about Heidi once they entered the Dining Room.

Hundreds of real live bats were fluttering around the room, occasionally swooping low over the tables and making all the girls (and some of the guys) scream. Colossal spider webs were stretched out across the windows, and the spiders inside them were swinging on their silk threads like it was a trapeze. Harold and Don sat down at the table, looking at the flickering jack-o-lanterns, when the food appeared. They all dug in.

They hadn't even finished the main course when Professor Quiddle came sprinting into the room, his arms flailing like windmills and his robes hanging off of one shoulder. When he reached the High Table, he crashed into it in front of Professor Dunderbore. The room fell silent as he spoke. "Ogre - in the dungeon - it looks like - looks like -" his eyes rolled, and he fainted.

There was an explosion of noise in the room. The younger kids were crying, the girls were screaming, Snalfoy was howling, "MOMMY!" while several Hisserins stared at him in astonishment. Even the sixth and seventh years looks terrified. Harold looked up at the High Table just in time to see Dunderbore conjuring an electric guitar out of thin air. He held it up against him, raised his arm, and strummed it with so much force that the glasses, plates, and silverware shook from the vibration of the sound.

Everyone howled and put their hands over their ears, looking up at Dunderbore. The room fell silent. Dunderbore grinned, slamming the guitar on the table with a loud _clunk_.

"Listen up, peeps!" he said loudly. "All prefects will escort their House to their dormitories while I lead the teachers to tackle the ogre!"

"What about Professor Quiddle?" yelled a student.

Dunderbore surveyed the unconscious teacher. "Uh…well, he'll be okay. Let's just leave him there. The coolness from the floor will seep into his veins and give him an overall state of peace."

Everyone stared at him.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked. "Come on! Go back to bed!"

Henry was in his element.

"Come on, Diffindor students!" he called down the table. "Follow me! I'll lead you to the dormitory!"

"Yeah, 'cause we always forget our way whenever there's a crisis," said Ed loudly. Harold and Don laughed. Henry glared at Ed.

"How could an ogre get in here?" asked Harold while they walked.

"No idea, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Don. "Someone must've let it in as a Halloween trick."

They had almost made it up the marble staircase when Harold stopped dead. "Don, what about Heidi?"

"What about her?" Don stopped too.

"She doesn't know an ogre got in!"

"You want to go rescue her, don't you?" groaned Don. "Fine, but Henry better not catch us or he'll tattle. He's such a teacher's pet."

They slipped into the shadows and followed the Snufflepuffs, who were going the opposite way, raced down a deserted hallway, and made their way towards the girls bathroom. Suddenly they heard footsteps.

"Oh my God! Henry!" hissed Don, yanking Harold behind a large stone statue of an elephant wearing a tutu. Harold peered around its thick arm and saw, not Henry, but Snake. He stomped down the hallway and disappeared.

"Shouldn't he be tackling the ogre with the other teachers?" said Don. Harold shrugged. They crept out from behind the elephant and continued their journey.

"I think he's going towards the third floor!" whispered Harold, but Don held out a hand to stop him.

"I smell ogre!" he exclaimed.

Harold inhaled deeply - and wished he hadn't. A disgusting smell reached his nose, almost like mud, body odor, and ogre gas mixed together.

And then they saw it. It was much taller than an ordinary human being, with olive green skin. Its ears stuck out at either side of its head, long and pointy. It wore a ripped, fabric tunic and a brown leather vest. It looked just like -

"Shrek!" cried Harold.

"Bless you," said Don.

"No, he looks just like Shrek! Doesn't he?"

"Who's Shrek?"

"He's in a few Shmuggle movies," said Harold impatiently. "But he's a good guy. At least, I thought he was."

The ogre peered inside a doorway. It scratched its head and thumped inside.

"Let's lock it in," said Don excitedly. "Look, the key is in the lock already. All we have to do is shut the door and turn the key!"

"Okay," Harold agreed. They raced towards the door, Harold praying with all his might that the ogre wasn't going to come back out. In one swift motion, he and Don pushed the door shut and turned the key.

"YIPEE!" they cried. They pelted back the way they came, but hadn't even exited the hallway when they heard a terrified shriek come from the room they had just locked.

"That's the girls bathroom!" wailed Don, his face white. "Heidi must be in there!"

"Come on!" roared Harold. They sprinted back to the door, unlocked it, pulled it open, and went inside.

Heidi Grace was pressed into the wall, looking terrified. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. Finally she swallowed and gasped, "Shrek!"

"How do you know my name?" said the ogre incredulously.

"I KNEW IT!" yelled Harold, jabbing his finger into Don's side. "I _told_ you that he looked like Shrek!"

Shrek turned around, spotting the two boys. "What are _you_ doing here? This is a girls bathroom!"

"What are _you _doing here?" snapped Don. "_You_ shouldn't be in here either! You shouldn't even be in the castle!"

"Someone let me in." said Shrek. "So I have a right to be here!"

"Who?" asked Harold suspiciously.

"Okay, I've had enough of this," said Heidi, getting her courage back. "I have to go do my homework now, so…" she started to edge around Shrek.

"No! Stay there!" Shrek growled, suddenly looking fierce. "The only place you're going is back to the swamp with me!"

"W-what?" stuttered Heidi. "Why?"

"I like you," leered Shrek. "You're coming back to be my little pet. We'll have lots of fun. You look like you can handle my games, not like those others. They would always break so easily. Donkey was the first. But they made a good snack afterwards." Shrek licked his lips. "I'm sure you won't break, though. And even if you do, it's no loss to me, right?"

Heidi screamed and tried to run, but he seized her around the neck and held her up. "Don't do that, missy," he soothed. "The more you struggle, the easier you break."

"PUT HER DOWN!" roared Don. He ran forward and kicked Shrek in the leg as hard as he could. The ogre roared. Fortunately, he dropped Heidi. Unfortunately, he dropped her onto the hard tile floor. She wasn't knocked out, but looked extremely dizzy.

"I suppose I could have more than one pet," he snarled, ripping a sink off of the wall. "I'll just take all of you! And everyone else I see on the way out!"

He threw the sink at Don, who dove to the side and just missed getting knocked out. Roaring, he grabbed another one and advanced on Harold.

At this time, Harold got a very brave (and very stupid) idea. He ran towards Shrek, took a flying leap, and landed on his back. Shrek whirled around and around, trying to look at him, and started jerking all over the place. Harold's wand was flying in every direction, and eventually lodged itself in Shrek's ear.

The ogre howled with pain; throwing Harold off, he raised the sink and prepared to smash him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Don whip out his wand, bounce his wrist three times, swirl it in the air, and jab it at the sink, yelling, "_FLUTTERBEE HOVEREE!"_

The sink shot out of Shrek's hands and into the air. It hovered above his head for a few seconds, and then came down on his skull with a deafening _crack!_ The ogre swayed side to side, and finally slumped down onto the floor hard enough to shake the whole castle.

"Did you - kill it?" said Heidi shakily, getting to her feet. Don ran over to support her.

"I wish," Harold muttered. "I think he's just knocked out."

"I thought you said Shrek was a _good guy!_" growled Don.

"He was!" said Heidi. "I don't know what happened to him - maybe he's sick, or something."

Harold bent down and pulled his wand out of Shrek's ear. Crusty yellow stuff was smeared on the end.

"Yuck! Ogre ear wax!"

He wiped it on the ogre's tunic.

The door suddenly banged open, and Professors McGummable, Snake, and Quiddle hurried into the room. They must've heard the ogre's roars and the crashes of the sinks. Quiddle sank onto the nearest toilet seat, whimpering.

While Snake examined the ogre, McGummable stalked over to the first years, looking furious. Hopes of winning one thousand points for Diffindor faded from Harold's mind.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking of?" she hissed. "You should be safe in your dormitory, not tackling an ogre! You're first years! You could've been killed!"

Snake glared at Harold. Harold looked at his feet.

A small voice came out of the shadows.

"Professor - they went looking for me."

"Miss Grace!"

Heidi walked unsteadily towards Professor McGummable.

"I went searching for the ogre because - well - I saw the movie Shrek, and I thought he would be - um - nice."

Don stared at Harold, his mouth hanging open. Heidi was telling a downright lie to a teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, Shr - the ogre would've taken me. He was threatening to take me back to his swamp and -" she shuddered. "Anyway, Harold shoved his wand in its ear and Don knocked it out with a sink. They didn't have time to go for help."

Harold and Don were nodding humbly like a couple of bobble heads.

"Well…in that case…" Professor McGummable seemed to be lost for words. She swallowed and turned to Heidi. "Miss Grace, don't you realize how stupid you've been? Ogres aren't nice. They're mean. Movies aren't real. Understand?"

"Yes, Professor." Heidi hung her head.

"Five points will be taken from Diffindor for your idiocy. Go back to your dormitory."

Heidi left the room. Professor McGummable faced Harold and Don.

"I guess I have to congratulate you. Not many first years could knock out an ogre. You will each receive five points, and Professor Dunderbore will be informed of this. You can go now."

They hurried out of the bathroom and didn't speak at all until they were two floors up. Harold was breathing deeply, cherishing the fresh air after the smell of the ogre.

"What a rip-off!" Don said suddenly. "We save Heidi from being killed and eaten, knock out an evil ogre, and we only get ten points?"

"Five points. Heidi lost some." Harold corrected.

"Five points!" Don repeated indignantly.

"Well, I'm never watching that movie again," said Harold, shuddering.

They had reached the Fat Cat.

"Yarn ball," said Don, and the portrait swung open. The living room was packed with people finishing the feast. Heidi, however, was standing alone by the doorway, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassing pause. Then, they all said, "Thanks," while looking down at their feet, and hurried off to get food.

But from that moment on, Heidi Grace became their friend. There are some things you can't share without liking each other, and knocking out Shrek the ogre was one of them.

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**So didja like it? Huh? Didja? Yes, Shrek is now evil. Maybe I should start writing horror stories now...I like being evil! }:D Mwahahaha! Now review, or I'll give Shrek a call and tell him that there's a lot of tasty children waiting for him...**


	11. Quippish

**Chapter eleven is up! Hip hip, HOORAY! Disclaimers: I do not own Harold's library book, Heidi's swearing problem, the Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand, Hagger's Dora the Explorer binoculars, Heidi's ability to produce purple flames, or the fork/Pigzits Express. (Haha, you're probably like "What?" You'll see!) Enjoy!

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Chapter Eleven: Quippish

The weather turned very cold as November arrived. Every morning a light frost appeared on the grounds, coating the grass with what looked like sugar crystals. In addition to his other jobs, Hagger was now in charge of defrosting the broomsticks on the Quippish field. When Harold looked out the window in the Diffindor living room one day, he saw Hagger sitting on the broomsticks outside his hut while reading the _Daily Wizard_.

The Quippish season had also begun. Harold would be playing in his first match on Saturday: Diffindor versus Hisserin. If they managed to win, Diffindor would move up to second place in the House Championship.

No one but the Diffindor team had seen Harold play because Woody had decided that, as Harold was their secret weapon that they were about to unleash upon the school, he was to remain, well, a secret. But somehow, the news that he was the new Diffindor Looker leaked out, and Harold got nervous butterflies in his stomach whenever someone told him he'd be fantastic, or that they'd be running around on the ground holding up giant pillows so he wouldn't hurt himself too bad when he fell off his broom.

It was really lucky that Shrek hadn't stolen Heidi, and even luckier that Harold and Don were the ones who saved her, because now the three of them were best friends forever (hopefully). She was the only reason he managed to get through all his homework after practicing with Woody until way past midnight. She had also lent him _Quippish Through the Ages, _which turned out to be an awesome book.

Heidi had also been a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since her rescue on Halloween night, and that made her much nicer and a little less bossy. The day before the Quippish match the three of them were standing outside in the courtyard, freezing their butts off, when she conjured up a jar and filled it with bright purple flames. They put it on the ground behind their backs to get warm, and were standing there talking about what other movie characters might have turned evil when Snake crossed the yard. Harold saw that he was limping.

"Professor! Hey, PROFESSOR!" called Harold.

Snake whipped his head around and glared at him. "What now, Plodder?"

"Why are you limping?" Harold asked innocently.

"I'm not limping," snarled Snake, limping closer to the three of them.

"Yes you are," countered Don. "You're doing it right now!"

"_Shut up, you idiots!"_ hissed Heidi.

"No swearing, Miss Grace," said Snake lazily. "Twenty points from Diffindor."

"Shut up is not a swear!" Heidi cried indignantly.

"It is in my book. Another twenty points from Diffindor."

Heidi opened her mouth, probably to say a real swear this time, but Harold covered it with his hand, and all that came out was, "Oo fuh-in bits!"

Snake stared at her, then turned to Harold again. "What's in your hand, Plodder?"

"Heidi's mouth," said Harold, his hand still clamped over Heidi's face.

"Not that hand, you idiot," snapped Snake. "Your other one."

It was _Quippish Through the Ages. _Harold held it out, and Snake snatched it.

"That's a library book!" he growled. "You can't those outside of the building, Plodder. Another twenty points from Diffindor."

It was a good thing Harold still had his hand over Heidi's mouth, because Heidi screeched, "WUH TUH FUH? DATS NADA ROO! OO FREEKIH MEH DAT UH, OO AS-HOE!"

Snake glared at her, but apparently his ears couldn't make out what she said. He limped away, clutching the book under his arm. Feeling it was safe to do so, Harold removed his hand, wiping Heidi's spit on her robes.

"Eww! Stop it!" she snapped. Glaring after Snake, she growled, "He just made that rule up!"

"Wonder why he's limping?" Harold thought aloud.

"I have no idea, but I hope his leg is really throbbing," snarled Don.

That night, the Diffindor living room was extremely noisy. Heidi chose a table next to the window and began to check Harold and Don's Charms homework. She would blow up and start ranting if they ever asked to copy her work, but they still got the right answers anyway.

Harold was nervous about the match. He wanted to get his mind off of it, but no matter how hard he tried, the possibility of Snalfoy knocking him off his broom still lingered. Finally, he stood up.

"I'm going to get my Quippish book back," he said to Don and Heidi.

They exchanged a look. "Good luck," said Don.

Harold made his way to the staff room, thinking. If he asked for the book while a bunch of other teachers were watching, Snake _couldn't _refuse. He began to relax.

He arrived at the door and knocked. There was no answer, and no sound of feet approaching the door. He knocked again. Nothing.

What if Snake had left the book inside? Then he could just go in, grab it, and get out fast. Making up his mind, Harold pushed open the door - and a frightening scene met his eyes.

There _were_ people inside the room: Snake and Filth. Snake had hoisted up his robes with Filth leaning towards him, and Harold was about to assume the impossible when he saw Snake's leg. It had three long gashes on one side, oozing blood, and Filth was leaning forward to apply bandages. Harold breathed a sigh of relief.

"Stupid animal," Snake was saying. "How the hell are you supposed to watch all three heads at once?"

"Um…excuse me," said Harold loudly. Snake jumped and whipped around, throwing his robes over his leg.

"PLODDER!" he snarled, his face full of fury.

"Hi," said Harold quickly, and cut to the chase. "Can I have my book back?"

"NO!" roared Snake. "GET OUT! GET OUT BEFORE I CURSE YOU!"

"Okay, okay!" said Harold. He turned and ran all the way back up to the Diffindor living room.

"Did you get it?" asked Don eagerly, when Harold had collapsed in an armchair, breathing heavily.

"No, I didn't get it," he said through gritted teeth. He told him and Heidi what he had seen in a low whisper.

"You know what this means," he concluded, excitement and fear churning in his stomach. "I'll bet he tried to get past the three-headed cat on Halloween! _And_ that he let the troll in so the other teachers would be distracted!"

"How many Cheerios?" said Don. Heidi glared at him.

"No - he can't have!" she said. "I know he's a jerk, but he wouldn't try and steal something that Dunderbore was guarding!"

"Come on, Heidi," snapped Don. "You have to learn how to accept that some teachers are evil. I'm with Harold. But what's he trying to get? What's that cat thing guarding?"

Harold found it a little difficult to fall asleep that night. The same questions were buzzing around in his head, and so was the furious face of Snake when he had seen Harold in the doorway.

The Great Dining Room was filled with the smells of fresh eggs, sausages, pancakes, waffles, and fruit as the Diffindor team made its way to their seats. Everyone was chattering about the first Quippish match of the season.

"Come on, Harold, eat some breakfast," begged Heidi.

"No."

"But you have to! It's the first Quippish match of the season!"

"I'm aware of that," Harold growled.

"She's right, Harold," said Sean Shimmigan. "Lookers need their strength. After all, they're the ones who determine the whole game. They also get beat up a lot, too."

"Thanks for the advice, Sean," said Harold, watching Sean pour three different kinds of syrups onto his waffles. Heidi cut a piece of waffle with her fork and held it in front of Harold's face.

"Look, Harold, here comes the Pigzits Express, come on now, open the tunnel, come on -"

Harold swung his arm up and knocked the fork out of Heidi's hands. It sailed across the Great Dining Room and landed in Drake Snalfoy's hair.

By eleven o' clock, the whole entire school was out in the stands. Some were holding binoculars, because even though the stands were high, it was still hard to see what was going on.

Heidi, Don, Sean, Ian, and Nelson went up to the top row, holding up a sheet with words on it. It said _Plodder for President_, and the paint flashed different colors every five seconds.

Harold was in the locker room changing into his scarlet Quippish robes (Hisserin would be playing in green). Woody cleared his throat loudly for silence.

"Okay, people," he began. "This is it."

"This is it, this is it," said Ed Weezy.

"This is it, this is it, this is it!" chanted Gordy.

"The one -"

"We've all -"

"Been waiting for!"

"Put -"

"Your hands -"

"Together for -"

"OLIVE WOODY'S YEARLY BEGINNING-OF-THE-QUIPPISH-SEASON-SPEECH!" they cried simultaneously. Everyone clapped and whistled.

"Shut up, you two!" snapped Woody, his face slightly red. "Diffindor has never had a better team. We'd better win this year, or I'll drown everyone in the showers after the match that cost us the cup!"

Everyone stared at him. Even Ed and Gordy were lost for words.

"So, no pressure or anything," Woody said brightly. "Let's go."

Harold followed the rest of the team out into the stadium. Three-quarters of the stadium was cheering and chanting, "DIFFINDOR! DIFFINDOR!" at the top of their voices. The other quarter was giving them death looks and clearly screeching, "HISSERIN! HISSERIN!" but no matter how loudly they yelled, they couldn't be heard. Harold grinned.

Madam Hoops, the referee, was standing in the middle of the stadium with her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want all of you to _behave yourselves,_" she growled. Harold saw she was glaring at Mark Splint, the Hisserin Captain, in particular. "Just play the game. _Don't _try to settle grudges, start grudges, or kill anyone. Got it?"

"AWWW!" moaned the Hisserins.

"Mount your brooms!" ordered Madam Hoops.

Harold jumped onto his Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand, feeling braver from the sound of, "DIFFINDOR! DIFFINDOR!" coming from all sides.

Madam Hoops blew her whistle. The fifteen brooms rose up in the air, and they were off.

"Aaaand the Quaddle is taken immediately by the hot Shooter Angela Johanson - wow, look at the way her hair blows in the breeze, quite attractive if you ask me -"

"GORDON!"

"Sorry, Professor."

Apparently, the twins' friend Steve Gordon was commentating, closely monitored by Professor McGummable.

"And look at her go up there, wow, nice pass to Alyssa Skimmet, she's pretty hot, too - sorry, Professor - oh, back to Johanson - no, the Hisserins take possession, Hisserin Captain Mark Splint takes the Quaddle and - wow, he sucks at flying - and oh no, he's gonna sc- oops, never mind, excellent move by Diffindor Blocker Woody, he's pretty good at this stuff, Kaylee Dell takes the Quaddle, dives around Splint - good one! - there she goes, racing up the pitch, wow, lots of hot girls on the Diffindor team - sorry, Professor! Jeez! - aw, crud, got hit in the head by a Spludger, and the Hisserins take the Quaddle, and - stopped by a Spludger, nice aim from Ed Weezy - no, Gordy - no - oh, who cares, nice aim from the Diffindor Pounder, and Johanson back in possession, look at her go, up the pitch, dodges a Spludger - come on, Angela! - she shoots…SHE SCORES!"

An earsplitting roar came from the Diffindor supporters, while the Hisserins, who seemed to realize that verbal abuse wasn't going to work out, all gave the finger to Angela Johanson.

"S'cuse me, come on now…s'cuse me…COULDJA MOVE, ALREADY?"

"Hagger!"

Don and Heidi squeezed together to give Hagger room to sit. He pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the annoyed yells to get out of the way.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," he said, dropping onto the bench. "But I can hardly see anything! S'not the same as watchin' up close. Any sign of the Squish yet?"

"Nope," said Don. "Harold's not doing much of anything right now."

"He's keeping outta trouble," growled Hagger, peering through a giant pair of Dora the Explorer binoculars.

Harold was circling the pitch, keeping out of sight, out of mind. This was part of Woody's game plan. But there was no sign of the Squish.

Harold had done a few loops and corkscrews in the air when Angelica had scored, but now it was down to business. Once he thought he had seen the Squish, but it was just a reflection off of one of the Weezy's watches, and once a Spludger had decided to try and bash his head in, but Harold had swerved sharply to the left and shot higher up to avoid it.

"Nice, Harold!" said Ed, smashing the Spludger towards the Hisserin players.

"Hisserin in possession," Steve was saying. "That Shooter sure is good at dodging - dodged a Spludger, dodged a Diffindor Shooter, and two Weezys - must get the practice from dodging girls - Professor, lighten up! - wait - was that the Squish?"

Harold saw it. He dived, hearing the gasps and cheers from the Diffindor supporters. The Hisserin Looker Terry Piggs had seen it too - they were neck and neck - only a few more feet - he stretched out a hand -

WHAMMO! Screams of abuse exploded from the Diffindor supporters as Mark Splint braked right in front of Harold, who swerved sharply to avoid smashing into him. Now his broom spun round and round like a top with Harold holding on for dear life.

"FOUL!" roared the Diffindors.

Madam Hoops awarded the Diffindor team a free shot at the goalposts, yelling incoherent lectures at Mark Splint.

"WHAT THE FU -" Don slammed his hand over Heidi's mouth.

"I'm wi' Heidi!" roared Hagger, jumping up off the bench. "Splint coulda killed 'im!"

"What?" cried Nelson.

"Calm down, Nelson, Hagger's just upset," soothed Heidi, once Don had taken his hand off of her face.

Steve Gordon was finding it a bit hard not to take sides.

"Well then, after that disgusting ape got what he deserved -"

"Gordon!"

"Sorry - I mean, after that butt-scratching monkey -"

"_Gordon, I'm warning you -"_

"Alright, _alright!_ Jeez! Splint nearly kills the Diffindor Looker -" Nelson began to cry - "which could happen in any Quippish match with the Hisserins, I guess, so, moving on…"

Harold was just recovering from the episode when it happened. His broom gave a sudden lurch. He just managed to grab the handle with his hands, and tightened his grip with his knees. What was that?

It happened again, feeling as though it was trying to buck him off. But Cumulonimbus Two-Thousands didn't just decide to buck their riders off. It would've said so in the product description! Harold tried to turn back towards the Diffindor goalposts so he could get Woody to call a time out, when he realized that he had no control over his broomstick whatsoever. He couldn't turn it, direct it, make it do loops, corkscrews, or anything. Harold held on as tightly as he could while the broom zigzagged through the air, every now and then making violent, jerky movements that bounced Harold's butt in the air.

Steve was completely oblivious to Harold's predicament, along with everyone else in the stadium.

"Hisserin in possession - Splint has the Quaddle again - passes Skimmet - passes Dell - yes! Hit in the face by a Spludger, hope he got a concussion - yes, _I'm_ _sorry_, Professor - aw, come on! He scored!"

"BOOOOO!" roared the Diffindor supporters, while a faint cheer rose from the Hisserins. No one seemed to realize that Harold was having issues with his broom. It carried him up and pretty much isolated him from the game.

"Eh?" said Hagger suddenly. "What's Harold doin'? Looks like he lost control of his broom, but he _can't _have…."

Suddenly, everyone in the stands were gasping and pointing up at Harold. His broom has started rolling over and over like a dog falling down a hill, and Harold could just manage to hold on. Then the crowd screamed as the broom gave a hard jerk and Harold was thrown off, but still managed to hold on with one hand.

"Did that ape Splint do something to it when he blocked him?" whispered Sean angrily.

"No kid could to that ter a Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand," said Hagger, still staring up at Harold. "That's powerful dark magic, that is."

Heidi wrestled the binoculars from Hagger ("Hey!") and frantically began scanning the crowd.

"What are you looking for?" said Don.

"I knew it!" moaned Heidi. "That bast-" Don covered her mouth again.

"What? What?" he gasped. "And try to tell me without swearing, please!"

"Snake!" snapped Heidi, once he removed his hand. "He's jinxing the broom!" She held out the binoculars, and Don peered through them. Snake was staring up at Harold while muttering nonstop under his breath.

"What do we do?" he cried.

"I'll take care of it," said Heidi. "Leave him to me." Without another word, she jumped out of her seat and hurried away. Don took the binoculars and stared up at Harold. His broom was vibrating so hard that it was almost impossible for him to hold on. Everyone in the stands had their attention fixed on him, so when Mark Splint seized the Quaddle and scored five times, no one noticed.

"For God's sake, Heidi, hurry up!" whispered Don, as Harold's broom floated higher and higher up.

Heidi had managed to plow through the spectators all the way across to where Snake sat. She was so focused on her task that she didn't even stop to apologize for knocking Professor Quiddle into Professor Fitflick, who was sitting in front of him. Finally, Heidi crouched down behind Snake and whipped out her wand. She whispered a few choice words, and the bright purple flames shot out the end and onto the hem of Snake's robes.

It didn't take long for Snake to realize that he was on fire. "AAAARRRG!" he roared, stamping on the flames. Heidi reached out to scoop them into a jar, but withdrew her hand, smirking. She would let Snake deal with it.

Harold was screaming, "I'M GONNA DIE! I'M GONNA DIE!" over and over when he suddenly realized that his broom had stopped shaking. Hardly daring to believe it, Harold heaved himself back on and shot around the pitch. The crowd cheered.

"Nelson, stop crying! You can look!" shouted Don. Nelson had been wailing into Hagger's jacket for the past five minutes.

Harold was racing towards the ground when the crowd saw him hold his stomach, as though he were about to throw up. He collapsed on all fours in the grass, heaving, until he spit something gold into his hands. He stared at it in astonishment, instinctively closing his fingers around the little winged ball. Even though it was made of metal, it felt like it was made of rubber.

When Harold squeezed the Squish, it emitted the loud sound of a foghorn. Everyone in the stands whipped around to look at him. Then the Diffindors let out a roar of victory.

"DIFFINDOR WINS!" yelled Steve Gordon.

"No fair! He didn't catch it! He almost swallowed it!" howled Splint indignantly, but it didn't matter - Harold hadn't broken any rules. The score was one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harold didn't hear any of these details, though, for he was in Hagger's hut with Don and Heidi, drinking a cup of hot chocolate.

"It was Snake, Harold!" said Don. "Heidi and I saw him! He was staring at you and muttering, he didn't even blink!"

"That's crap," said Hagger. He had been completely oblivious to Don and Heidi's urgent conversation, even though he was right next to them. "Snake would _never _do something like that!"

Harold, Don, and Heidi stared at each other, debating. Finally, Harold decided to tell him everything.

"I caught Snake red-handed, Hagger!" announced Harold. "He tried to get past that three-headed cat on Halloween! _He _let Shrek in, so no one would interrupt him! It either scratched him or bit him, though, 'cause I saw him putting bandages on his leg while he was in the staff room!"

"What were yeh doin' in the staff room?" said Hagger incredulously. "An' how do yeh know about Puffy?"

"_Puffy?"_

"Yes, Puffy. He's mine. Someone gave him to me for my birthday, so I decided I would use it to guard the -" he broke off.

"What? Guard the what?" said Harold eagerly.

"Now, that's none of yer bees guts!" snapped Hagger.

"But Snake's trying to _steal_ it!" yelled Harold impatiently.

"I told yeh, that's crap!" Hagger said again. "Snake's a Pigzits teacher, he'd _never _go against Dunderbore."

"Oh yeah?" snarled Heidi. "Then tell me why he just tried to kill Harold!"

She seemed to have changed her mind about Snake being evil.

"I've read about jinxes, Hagger, you have to keep eye contact! And Snake wasn't blinking at all!"

"Yer wrong, okay?" said Hagger, standing up. "Now, don' ask me why Harold's broom started actin' like a bull. I have no idear why that happened. Snake would never try to kill any student. And stop interfering with things that don't concern yeh! You forget that cat, _and _what it's guardin', that's between Dunderbore and Nick Sleighbell!"

"Nick Sleighbell?" said Harold excitedly. "Is he related to Santa Claus? _He's_ involved with all this too?"

Hagger looked like he wanted to kill someone.

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**I had fun with this chappie! Now REVIEW, or I'll send someone to jinx you, too! Mwa ha ha! }:D**


	12. The Window of Air Heads

**Hi readers! I'm so sorry I didnt update in so long! I have been literally DROWNING in homework! DROWNING, I TELL YOU! And I changed my name. I'm still shootforthestars, except now my name is ThE fLoWeR cHiLd Of ThE 6o'S, so dont think that someone stole my story or whatever. Yup. So how's it goin? Um. ANYWAY, Disclaimers: I do not own tinsel fairies, Rudolph the Dark Green Fir Tree, the pretty yellow tape, Professor Snake's Barbie doll, a Wizard Monopoly set, an Invisibility Blankie, a national anthem-singing book, or the Window of Air Heads. Haha, lots of disclaimers. ...WAIT! HOLD THE PHONE! Disclaimers are stuff I dont own! But dont I really own all this stuff? Im the one making this stuff up! ...uuuuhhhh...you know what, I dont care. This is my version of disclaimers. JK Rowling knows that Harry Potter belongs to her. But HAROLD PLODDER belongs to me! :D Enjoy the chappie!

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Chapter 12: The Window of Air Heads

Harold woke up one cold December morning to see the Pigzits grounds blanketed with snow. Staring more intently, he noticed that the lake was frozen solid. Hagger was outside his hut giving CPR to a delivery owl. Directly below him, Professor Quiddle was yelling at the Weezy twins while ten snowballs threw themselves repeatedly at his head. Harold put all these observations together and came up with one conclusion.

"CHRISTMAS IS COMING!" he yelled.

Don yelped in surprise, sitting bolt upright in his bed. "Wazgoinon?" he choked out.

"CHRISTMAS IS COMING!" Harold repeated, jumping up and down on his bed.

Don glared at him. "It really took you this long?" he grumbled. "Did you fail to notice Professor Fitflick decorating his Christmas tree during Charms last week?"

Harold stopped jumping. "He's decorating?" he gasped. "I gotta see it!"

"That's my point! We _already_ saw it!" Don threw up his hands in frustration.

"Come on, come on, or we'll miss the tinsel fairies!" cried Harold, yanking his bathrobe over his pajamas and grabbing Don by the arm.

"Wait, wait!" Don tried to grab his bathrobe, but was already whisked through the doorway by Harold. "I NEED MY ROBE!" he howled back up the staircase. "HE ALREADY PUT UP THE TINSEL FAIRIES!"

The Christmas bug had bitten every student in Pigzits; no one could wait for the holiday break. The whole castle was being cleaned and decorated, but Sneeze would sometimes take out his family-sized ketchup bottle and squirt Christmas carols of his own composition on the freshly-scrubbed walls. Not every place in the castle was warm and toasty, either; while the Diffindor living room and the Great Dining Room had roaring fires, the hallways were bewitched to blow harsh, frigid winds day and night. Students had to be careful of any loose papers if their bags were open, because they would get caught up in the breeze and would fly all around the hallway. And if Sneeze was in one of these hallways while a homework paper was floating around, he would seize it, squirt a ketchup F onto it, and plaster it to the student's forehead. The Potions classroom was especially unbearable. Snake kept his door open for the whole class, allowing the winds to race into the dungeon. This was why many students had a hard time taking notes.

Apparently, Drake Snalfoy managed to ignore the winds by continually taunting Harold. "It's too bad that _some_ people have to stay here at Pigzits since they aren't wanted at home," he sneered one day.

"It's too bad that _some _people can't get anyone to laugh at how a crocodile could replace me as Looker next, and has to resort to taunting me about my family, which, by the way, no one cares about," said Harold loftily, without looking up from measuring his armadillo spit. The Diffindors laughed. Snalfoy glared at Harold, crushing his crystal phial in his fist. The Diffindors laughed harder.

It was true that Harold wasn't going back to the Durskeys for Christmas. As soon as Professor McGummable had come around asking who was staying at Pigzits for the holiday break, Harold had signed up immediately. He had absolutely no desire to go back to the Durskeys and watch Spudley open one hundred more presents and himself unwrap a can of Manwich. He hated Manwich. Don and his brothers were staying too, so Harold didn't feel sorry for himself one bit; this would probably be the greatest Christmas he ever experienced.

When Harold and Don left Potions, they saw that a large fir tree was blocking the hallway up ahead. Two enormous feet were visible underneath it, and loud grunting noises came from the other side.

"Hagger!" Harold and Don exclaimed. "Need any help?"

"Nah, I've got it," growled Hagger, peering around the side of the tree and grinning at the two boys. "Isn't he a beauty?"

"What, the tree?" said Harold.

"No, Professor Snake," snapped Hagger.

"What is it?" drawled a voice. Professor Snake was walking down the hallway.

"Oh, nothing, Professor," said Don cheerily. "Hagger was just saying how beautiful you are today!"

"No - I didn't mean -" stammered Hagger.

"What?" said Harold with mock surprise. "You mean you _don't _think he's beautiful?"

"You think he's _ugly_?" added Don.

"No! I just - I didn't - I mean - yer very - uh - handsome!" Hagger's face was bright red. Snake stared at him with a strange expression on his face. Suddenly, he took his hand and flipped his hair away from his face.

"Why, thank you!" he said, smiling slyly. "Excuse me, boys." And he continued down the hallway, his walk instantly becoming more of a strut. Harold pretended to throw up, while Don stuffed his fist in his mouth to conceal his laughter.

"Nice one, Hagger," he gasped when Snake was gone.

"Er - thanks - now, _anyway_, I named this tree Rudolph!" exclaimed Hagger, beaming. He began to drag the tree towards the Great Dining Room.

Harold and Don stared at him. "Rudolph?" Harold repeated.

"Yeah! Yeh know…the reindeer? With a red nose? Who was bullied by the other reindeers?"

"Yes…" said Harold. "But -"

"No," Don interrupted. "Who's Rudolph?"

Hagger looked shocked. "Well, now, don't tell me yeh never heard of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer! It's a great story, actually, see, there was this little reindeer…."

An hour passed. Harold was leaning on the wall, eyes closed, drool dripping out of his mouth.

"Harold! HAROLD!"

"Wha -" Harold opened his eyes. "What?"

"Hagger finished the story!" said Don. "Come on, we have to see the Great Dining Room!"

Hagger led the way in the room, dragging Rudolph the Dark Green Fir Tree with him.

"Hagger! Ah, the last tree! Put it in the far corner, would you?" called Professor Fitflick's voice. Harold saw the little man standing on a stepladder, brandishing his wand at a bag of tinsel on the floor.

"TINSEL FAIRIES!" cried Harold, and sprinted across the room.

Once the last tree was placed, Harold, Don, and Hagger stood back to admire the effect.

"That looks great!" cried Hagger. "I named the trees after all the reindeer!"

Harold frowned. After a moment, Don frowned too.

"What?" said Hagger.

"Hagger - there's only nine reindeer. There's twelve trees. What did you name the other three?" asked Harold.

Hagger squinted across the hall. "Oh! Er - I - uh - well, that one's - er - Santa Claus, that one's Mrs. Claus, and this one here is - uh - Frosty the Snowman!" He grinned triumphantly.

"Great," said Don. "Harold, we'd better go, we have to get to the library!"

"Oh, yeah!" said Harold.

"What are yeh goin' to the library for?" asked Hagger.

"Oh, nothing, just trying to find out who Nick Sleighbell is, that's all," said Harold airily.

"What? WAIT! YEH CAN'T DO THAT!" yelled Hagger, but Harold and Don were already sprinting away.

They had been trying to look up the man ever since Hagger had accidentally given them the information. How else were they going to find out what Snake was trying to steal? However handsome he thought he was, he was still up to something. But since they knew nothing about Sleighbell, other than that his name sounded Christmas-themed, they didn't know where to look. He wasn't in _Awesome Wizards of the Twentieth Century, _or _Important Discoveries of Modern Magic,_ or even _A Study of Recent Wizarding Stuff._ And this wasn't even a thousandth of the amount of books that resided in the library.

Harold really wanted to look in the Top Secret Section, but you needed a signed note from a teacher in order to get the book you required. And as he didn't have any idea what book he needed or a signed note, all he could do was stare longingly at the yellow tape that separated the section from the rest of the library.

"What are you doing?" snapped Madam Pinch, the librarian.

"Um…staring at the pretty yellow tape!" said Harold quickly.

"The pretty yellow tape doesn't need to be stared at!" Madam Pinch smacked Harold's arm with her extremely sharp bookmark.

"YEOWCH!" cried Harold.

"Stop wasting time!" she snarled. "Go do something that doesn't involve staring at the pretty yellow tape! That's _my _job!"

And Harold ran away, rubbing the paper cut on his arm.

Five minutes later, he, Don, and Heidi made their way back to the Great Dining Room for lunch. "Make sure you keep looking while I'm gone!" Heidi reminded them for the hundredth time.

"WE KNOW, HEIDI!" roared Don, spraying spaghetti sauce all over the table. Ian and Sean howled with laughter.

"We'll let you know if we find anything," said Harold, wiping up the sauce with a napkin. "And it'd be safe to ask your parents if they've ever heard of him."

"Extremely safe, as they're both dentists," said Heidi, grinning.

The next few days of Christmas vacation were very fun. Harold and Don got the living room to themselves most of the time, and Don started teaching Harold a game called Wizard Monopoly. It was a lot like real Monopoly, but had many different details to it. The pieces had a charm on them that made them walk and talk, the money was mini wizards' Twalleons, Fickles, and Sknuts, little huts and castles appeared on properties by themselves, and so on. Harold wasn't very good; he'd grown up with Spudley, and the only game Spudley ever played that wasn't a videogame was dodge ball.

On Christmas Eve, Harold went to bed looking forward to the feast and stealing some tinsel fairies from the Great Dining Room, but didn't expect to get any gifts. However, the first thing he saw when he woke up (other than the canopy of his bed) was a small pile of boxes covered with brightly-colored wrapping paper.

"HOLY CRAP!" he yelled.

"Aaarrrg!" cried Don, sitting bolt upright in his bed. "What is it this time?"

"I've got presents!" screamed Harold, bouncing on his bed again, but this time swinging his pillow around like a baton.

"Of course you do! Its freaking Christmas!" Don pulled his robe on, scowling. "Next time you wake me up, you'd better be dying!"

"Okay," said Harold, leaping off his bed and landing in front of the pile of presents. He picked up the top package, which was poorly wrapped. A Blue's Clues sticker said _To Harold, From Hagger_. Inside was a miniature banjo. It looked as though Hagger had made it himself.

"A banjo?" laughed Don. "What does he think you need a banjo for?"

"No idea," said Harold, grinning. He picked up a tiny envelope and ripped it open. The note inside said: _Enclosed is your Christmas present. From Uncle Herman and Aunt Pansy. _Taped to the inside of the envelope was a dime.

"A frickin' _dime_?" roared Harold in outrage.

"Wow!" Don was staring at the dime in awe. "Can I have it?"

"Knock yourself out." Harold threw the dime at Don and hit him in the forehead. "Who do you think sent me these?" He indicated the rest of the packages.

Don went red. "Well, _that _one is from my mom," he muttered, pointing to a large, lumpy present. "I told her not to get you something, but she never listens to me!"

"Hey, it's a pair of sweatpants!" cried Harold in surprise. The sweatpants were emerald green and had the words _Harold Plodder_ knitted on the butt part.

"Nice," chuckled Harold.

"Oh my God, I am going to die of embarrassment right now," groaned Don.

"Why? I love them!" Harold was already stepping out of his pajama bottoms and yanking the sweatpants on. He turned around and stuck out his butt. "How's it look?"

"Um…amazing, Harold. Just amazing," said Don sarcastically.

"And it comes with fudge balls!" Harold opened the box and ate one. "Yummy!"

The next present was from Heidi - a large box of Chocolate Hogs and Every Flavor Gummies. There was only one gift left. Harold picked it up and felt it - it felt soft and light. He ripped it open, and out fell a silvery blanket.

"Aww!" cried Harold, picking it up and hugging it. "Someone sent me a blankie!"

"That's not just a blankie!" Don exclaimed. "That's an Invisibility Blankie! Try it on, Harold!"

Harold draped the blankie over his shoulders and looked in the mirror. Sure enough, his head was floating in midair.

"AWESOME!" he yelled.

Don gasped. "A note fell out of it!" He pointed towards the floor.

Harold picked it up and unfolded it. It said:

_Your father left this blankie in my possession before he died. Its about time it was returned to you. Use it wisely._

There was no signature. Harold stared at the note. Don stared at the Blankie. The Blankie stared at nothing.

"I want a Blankie," moaned Don.

Harold didn't answer. Had this really belonged to his dad?

The door to the dormitory banged open, and Ed and Gordy strutted in. Harold shoved the Blankie behind his back.

"Merry Christmas!" they sang.

"Hey, look!" said Ed excitedly. "Harold's got Weezy sweatpants too!"

"Turn around and show me your butt!" Gordy ordered.

Feeling extremely stupid, Harold turned around and bent over.

"Niiiiiice," said Ed. "Man, she put more effort into yours! It has your last name on it!" He and Gordy bent over. Theirs only said Ed and Gordy.

"Don! Why aren't you wearing yours?" cried Gordy. "Come on, pull them on, they're nice and cozy warm!"

Don pulled on his sweatpants just as Henry walked in.

"What's going on in here?" he said crossly. His sweatpants were draped over one arm.

"Henry, m'brotha!" said the twins, running over and sandwiching Henry between them. "Why don't you have your sweatpants on yet?"

"I'm not wearing them," grunted Henry stiffly.

"Oh, yes you are!" said Gordy. He threw Henry to the ground, and he and Ed yanked off his pajama pants and exchanged them with the sweatpants. Harold stifled a laugh when he saw that the butt said _Henry the Prefect._

"Yep, you don't mess with Ed and Gordy," Don muttered.

"And you're sitting with us today, because we matter in your life," said Ed, like he was scolding a naughty toddler. "You're little Prefect friends can wait!"

And with that, they marched Henry from the room.

Harold had a lot of fun at dinner that night. There was lots and lots of food, and Wizard Crackers were scattered all down the tables. They were very different from normal Shmuggle crackers. Harold pulled one with Ed, and it didn't crack at all; it let off a bang like a cannon and confetti was spewed into the air, flying around the room. Up at the high table, Dunderbore pulled a cracker with Snake. It banged and spewed confetti, and the little presents flew out of it. Dunderbore caught his, which was a pair of giant rainbow bunny slippers. Snake tried to catch his, but missed and it smacked into his chest, making him topple backwards. When he finally regained his balance, he stared at his present, which turned out to be a Barbie doll. Harold and Don burst into laughter.

Harold finally left the table with Don, carrying the following: a package of his own multicolored flying confetti, a Grow-Your-Own-Third-Arm kit, and a brand new Wizard Monopoly game. He dropped the novelties in his dormitory and spent the rest of the afternoon having a furious snowball fight with the Weezy twins. The twins bewitched the snowballs to either explode on contact, melt into freezing cold water on contact, or keep smashing into the target's head. After three hours of war, the four boys trekked back up to Diffindor Tower, gasping and spluttering, and changed into dry clothes. Harold played Don in Wizard Monopoly and lost pathetically.

"It's all your fault!" he yelled.

"What?" cried Henry.

"If you hadn't tried to help me so much I would've beat him!"

"That's a lie!" roared Henry. "You needed my help!"

"I did not!" snapped Harold.

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

While they were arguing, Ed snatched Henry's Prefect badge from the front of his robes, and Harold and Don sat back to watch Ed and Gordy play Monkey in the Middle, with Henry in the middle, of course. Harold had been right; this was the best Christmas he had ever experienced. But he had been itching to try out the Invisibility Blankie all day.

Once Don finally fell asleep, Harold pulled the Blankie out of his suitcase and ducked underneath it. He checked his reflection in the mirror to make sure he was invisible (he was), tiptoed down the tower stairs, pushed open the portrait hole, and climbed out.

"Who's that?" said the Fat Cat sharply, but Harold didn't answer. Where should he go? He could go anywhere in Pigzits. Then he remembered the Top Secret Section in the library. He could search for Sleighbell for as long as he needed to without getting caught. Pulling the Blankie closer to him, he set off.

He flicked on a flashlight when he reached the library. It was pitch black and pretty creepy at night. Harold stepped over the pretty yellow tape and began to scan the titles of the books. If they even had titles. Lots of them didn't. He finally chose one at random and let it fall open in his arms.

"OH SAY CAN YOU SEEEEE! BY THE DAWN'S EARLY LIGHT!" screeched the book, extremely off key.

"Shut up, shush, shut up!" hissed Harold, petrified.

"WHAT'S SO PROOOUD-LY WE HAAAIL, AT THE TWI-LIGHT'S LAST GLEA-MING!"

Harold panicked. He banged the book on the shelf over and over.

"WHO'S BROUGHT - ow - STRIPES AND - ow - BRIGHT STAAAARS! THROUGH THE - OW - PERILOUS - OW - FIIIGHT!"

"SHUT UP!" roared Harold, and, finally realizing what he should've done in the first place, slammed the book shut. He shoved it back in its spot on the bookshelf, breathing heavily. He jumped up and ran for it; in his hastiness, he dropped his flashlight. Filth stormed through the library doors and Harold just managed to duck under his arm. He sprinted down the hallway, the Star Spangled Banner still ringing in his ears.

Turning a corner, he suddenly realized that he had no idea where he was going. He skidded to a stop just as Filth came around the corner, holding the flashlight, followed by none other than Samuel Snake.

"They can't be far away!" wheezed Filth.

"Hurry up!" snapped Snake, striding ahead of the caretaker. "We'll never catch them at this pace!"

Harold looked around wildly, and noticed a doorway that was ajar. Thanking his lucky stars, he squeezed through it and waited until the footsteps were long gone before taking off the Blankie.

He turned around, facing the rest of the room, and gasped. Dominating the scene was a giant multicolored window floating in midair in the middle of the room. Harold crept closer, bemused. Upon closer inspection, the mirror looked like it was made of Air Heads. He stretched out a finger and touched it. Gooey. It was definitely made of Air Heads. He stared into it, and cried out in shock.

Two people were standing on the other side of the window, staring out at him, smiling and waving, though their eyes were filled with sadness. Harold peered around the side of the window. No one was standing behind it. He looked in again. The man had extremely messy black hair, and was wearing glasses. The woman had red hair, and her eyes…_her eyes are green, like mine_, thought Harold. _They're even the same shape!_ He had his nose pressed against the window now.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"

His parents nodded and pressed their hands against the glass. Harold pressed his hands against theirs. He ached with joy and agony as he saw his parents for the first time in ten years. He stood there for hours, staring into their faces, but eventually became so exhausted he knew he had to get to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mothers face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.

"You could've woken me up," said Don crossly the next morning.

"But you said not to wake you up unless I was dying!" Harold reminded him.

"Well…you could've…uh…pretended," he muttered.

"I'm going back tonight, you can come then." Harold stared into space.

"Harold?" Don waved his hand in front of his face. "Aren't you hungry? You need to eat something!"

"No I don't," said Harold. Who cared about food? He could care less about that Nick Sleighbell guy now. He was going to see his parents tonight. Who cared what the three-headed cat was guarding? And did it really matter if Snake stole it?

"Harold?" Don looked at him uneasily. "You look strange. Are you all right?"

Harold was terrified that he wouldn't be able to find the window again that night. But after an hour of desperate searching, he saw the door.

"Here it is!" he whispered excitedly, and dragged Don into the room, throwing the Blankie off of them. He skidded to a stop in front of the window, and there they were, smiling and waving again.

"See?" he said breathlessly.

"No," said Don. "Were you making this all up?"

"No!" snapped Harold. "Here, stand in front of it, you'll see…" He shoved Don in front of the window. His parents disappeared. All he could see was Don with his Build-A-Bear pajamas.

Don, however, was staring transfixed at the reflection.

"Oh my God!" he gasped. "Look at me…I look sexy!"

"What?" said Harold, staring more intently at the window. But the reflection hadn't changed.

"Lookit!" said Don excitedly, pointing at himself. "I'm holding the House Cup - the Quippish Cup - I'm Head Boy - Quippish Captain - do you think this window shows the future?"

"No." Harold was beginning to feel annoyed. "My parents are dead! Move over, I want a turn."

"You had your turn all last night!"

"I want to see my mom and dad!"

"OW! You pinched me!" Don looked shocked.

Their argument ended as they heard a noise in the hallway. Harold whipped out the Blankie and threw it over him and Don just as Mrs. Morris padded into the room. Her eyes were fixed on the exact spot in which they were standing. Could she see through the Blankie? After what seemed like forever, she turned around and left.

"Come on Harold, this is dangerous, she could've gone to get Filth," whispered Don, and he dragged Harold away.

The next day Harold sat in an armchair in the Diffindor living room staring into the fire.

"Wanna play Monopoly, Harold?" asked Don.

"No."

"Let's go visit Hagger, then…see if he's named any other Christmas decorations."

"No…you can go…"

"Harold," said Don seriously. "I know what your thinking. Don't go back to that window tonight. Its dangerous. It may be made of Air Heads, but I don't trust it."

Harold said nothing. He continued to stare into the fire, knowing that he was definitely going back to the window tonight, no matter what Don said.

The next night he found his way much quicker than before. He sat pretzel style in front of the window, watching his parents wave at him. Nothing could tear him away from this spot. Nothing.

Except….

"So…back again, Harold?"

Harold whirled around, his insides freezing. Standing behind him was none other than Albert Dunderbore.

"I - I - I didn't see you there," he stammered.

"I don't need a Blankie to become invisible," he said mysteriously. Harold felt the feeling come back into his limbs when he saw Dunderbore give him a goofy smile. The headmaster skipped across the floor and plopped down next to Harold.

"So, Harold, you have discovered the Window of Air Heads, like a whole bunch of other people before you," he said.

"Why is it made of Air Heads?" asked Harold curiously.

"I have no idea." Dunderbore pulled a bag of Twizzlers out of his pocket and began to chew on one. "Do you know what it does by now?"

"Um…it showed me my parents…"

"And it showed Don Weezy as Head Boy."

"How do you know that?" gasped Harold.

"I'm a hippie," said Dunderbore simply. "Hippies know these kind of things." He chewed up the Twizzler and took out another one. "So…can you think of what the window shows us all?"

"Nope," said Harold.

"Let me help you. The happiest man in the whole entire universe could use the Window of Air Heads like a normal window, and see his reflection exactly the way he is."

Harold thought. "It shows us…the things we want?"

"Yes and no," Dunderbore swallowed the Twizzler and took five more out of the bag. "It show us the deepest desires of our hearts. You, Harold Plodder, have never known your parents as you grew up, so you see them standing next to you. Don Weezy, who has always been out performed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, better than all of them." He chomped up the Twizzlers and took out more. "But this window does not tell the future. Only crystal balls do that, if used correctly. Men have committed suicide in front of the window because they could not bear to see what lies within. I sure hope that doesn't happen to you, Harold."

Harold gulped.

"Don't worry," said Dunderbore. "The window will be moved to a new home tomorrow, so don't waste your life looking for it. If you ever see it again, you will now know what to expect. It's not worth it to dwell on things that aren't real. Now, why don't you wrap yourself in that Blankie and get back to bed?"

Harold stood up and picked up the Blankie. Dunderbore finished chewing his Twizzlers and hopped up too, accidentally dumping the bag upside down and spilling the rest of the candy everywhere.

"Aw, crap!" he shouted. "That was my last freaking bag!"

"Professor?" said Harold. "What do you see when you look in the window?"

"Who, me? I see myself NOT dropping my precious Twizzlers."

Harold stared at him.

"I always have a limited amount," sighed Dunderbore, bending over to pick them up. "No one gets me Twizzlers for Christmas. They think I'm going to get a cavity. But I always brush my teeth! It's not fair!"

"O-kay then," said Harold. "I'll be off, then."

Only when he was back in his bed when Harold realized that Dunderbore probably didn't tell the truth. But then, he _had_ asked a pretty personal question.

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**Well? Didja like? :D It's too bad I didnt write this chappie during Christmas. Oh well. Now, apparently you people dont get it. Dont get what? you ask. Well, I know that more people are reading my story than they are reviewing. So let me make this quite clear: IF I DONT GET ENOUGH REVIEWS, I WILL NOT UPDATE ANYMORE, YOU FREELOADERS! Im sick of getting reviews from the same people every time and no one new is reviewing. Now, dont get me wrong, I LOVE any kind of review, so the veterans please keep reviewing! Thanks so much to stuckinadream, Melikecake, and AnnaAza for reviewing all my chappies! :D ME LUVS YOU! Keep it up!**


	13. Nick Sleighbell

**Oh my gosh! Im so sorry for not updating! :'( Ive been so busy its not even funny and Im REALLY SORRY to keep you people hanging and wanting more! I feel terrible! I promise I'll update faster in the future! Anyway, Ive noticed a problem with my list of disclaimers: all that stuff I made up myself, so I have no idea why Im calling them disclaimers. So I'll have to go back and fix them or something. HERE is a real disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANY OF JK ROWLING'S HARRY POTTER STUFF! And this is the stuff I DO own: the mud war, Wizard Monopoly, the Glue-Your-Legs-Together Curse, the ALCHEMIST'S ROCK (duh), Snake's knowledge of the hit song TiK ToK, and Don's...randomness...stupidness...whatever you want to call it. Okay, well, please read and REVIEW! ENJOY!

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Chapter 13: Nick Sleighbell

At midnight one night, Harold screamed.

Don jerked awake, used to the routine by now. "Harold! Harold!" he yelled, taking the glass of ice cold water he had ready on his bedside table and thrusting it into Harold's face.

Coughing and spluttering, Harold sat up. "Can't you stop doing that?" he demanded, pushing his sopping wet hair out of his eyes.

"It's the only thing that will wake you up!" said Don.

"Yeah, right," Harold mumbled, taking the towel he had ready on _his_ bedside table and mopping his head with it.

"What's the matter with you, Harold?" demanded Don. "This is the fifth time this week you've screamed at midnight!"

"It's not my fault!" Harold protested. "I keep having nightmares!" He grabbed his pillow and hugged it tight.

"I _told _you that window was dangerous!" Don clambered back into bed. "Look what it did to you! And you were only looking through it for like three nights!"

"Thanks for reminding me." Harold put the pillow back on the bed and laid down. He had taken Dunderbore's advice and stayed away from the Window of Air Heads, but now that he knew what his parents looked like, he kept having terrible nightmares of an evil laugh, a flash of green light, and their screaming faces before they collapsed to the ground.

When Heidi had come back from her vacation, she had personally yelled at Harold for five minutes straight for roaming the hallways at night. And then yelled for another five because they hadn't found out who Nick Sleighbell was. They continued to skim through books in the hopes of coming across his name, because Harold was sure he'd read it somewhere. But they could only do it during breaks now, since Harold had Quippish practice again.

Woody was driving the team into the ground. His theory was that if he forced them to practice harder then they could, then they would be perfect in the next match. Even the pounding rain couldn't put out the crazy fire in his eyes. Harold wasn't exactly all for it, but he knew Woody was right, sort of. The harder they trained, the better they would be for the next match, which was crucial if the Diffindors wanted to win the Quippish Cup. If they beat Snufflepuff, they would overtake Hisserin in the House Championship for the first time in seven years.

During the next practice, Woody blew his top. The Weezy twins were dive-bombing him and throwing globs of mud at the back of his head, trying to knock him off his broom.

"CUT IT OUT!" he roared at the twins, spitting mud from his mouth. "We have to make sure we're in tip top shape for the match! Snake's refereeing this time, and any goofing off will probably lose us the Cup!"

Gordy was so shocked that he forgot to brake, and smashed headlong into Woody. Woody toppled from his broom and landed in a giant puddle of mud with a loud _splat! _Jumping back up again, he grabbed a handful of the stuff and lobbed it at Gordy. It hit him right in the face.

"HEY!" choked Gordy. Ed dived for the ground, scooped up some mud, and threw it at Woody, who threw mud at Gordy, who threw mud at Ed. Angela threw a glob at Harold, but he ducked and it hit Alyssa instead. Alyssa plunged her hand in the puddle, looking like she wanted to kill someone. She pulled a giant glob out and threw it at Angela, who learned from her mistake and ducked. The mud glob soared over her head and hit Kaylee's ear. Harold grabbed some mud and threw it at Ed, but was knocked over by a giant glob from Gordy. Absolute mud-hell broke out as flying globs of liquidized dirt flew in all directions.

After a full five minutes of war, Woody finally remembered what he was supposed to be telling the team. "Wait! Stop! STOP!" he roared. Everyone froze; Angela had grabbed Ed's shirt and was ready to shove a handful of mud in his face.

"Snake's refereeing?" Harold gasped, as Angela let go of Ed's shirt and gave him an _I'll get you later_ look.

"Yes," panted Woody, brushing the mud off his broom. "Which is why we have to drill, drill, drill for the rest of the -"

His watched started beeping the Star Wars theme song. Practice was over.

"- practice," he finished. "Okay, never mind, just don't start a mud war during the actual game, alright?"

The team trudged back to the locker rooms to change. Harold's nerves were acting up. What if Snake tried to jinx him again? There was no way the team could win if their Looker was dangling from his broomstick.

He entered the Diffindor living room and found Don and Heidi playing monopoly. Monopoly was one of the only things that Heidi sucked at. Don kept saying that losing was good for her large ego.

"Don't talk to me right now," said Don. He was sitting cross-legged with his eyes squeezed shut and had his hands together as though he were praying. "UMMMMMMMM…" He opened his eyes and saw the look on Harold's face. "Whoa! You look terrible! What happened?"

While he was distracted, Heidi began switching all the pieces around on the board and putting his castles on her properties. Harold told both of them the news.

"Don't play!" said Heidi immediately.

"Pretend you have a broken neck!" Don suggested. Heidi glared at him. "What?" he whined.

"Don," said Heidi slowly, "if Harold pretended he had a broken neck, that would mean he would be dead." She said it as though telling him that one plus one equaled two.

Don stared at her. "Oh…oh yeah!" he exclaimed suddenly. "You don't wanna do that, then!" Heidi rolled her eyes.

"I have to play," said Harold. "If I don't, Diffindor would have to forfeit."

Don made a loud squeaking sound, and Harold and Heidi both turned to look at him. His lower lip was quivering, and all of a sudden, he threw his head back and howled, tears streaming out of his eyes.

"Don! DON!" yelped Heidi. "What the -"

"N-n-nooooo!" stammered Don, rocking backward and forward in his chair. "D-don't - forfeit! That - would be - b-b-bad!"

"Don, what -"

"WAAAA!"

"Don, its not such a big deal!"

"YES IT IS!"

"AARG!" roared Harold. "DON, SHUT UP!" He took the Monopoly board and threw it at Don. It hit him full in the face with a loud _thwack! _Don slumped down in his chair, unconscious.

"Harold!" choked Heidi. "You knocked him out!"

"Good." He sat back in his chair and tossed the Monopoly board to Heidi. "I win."

Suddenly, there was a loud, "EEEP!" Everyone jumped and turned to face the portrait hole, where they saw Nelson topple into the living room and face-plant into the rug. Harold noticed that his legs were squished together with an unnecessary amount of glue in between, and guessed that someone had put the Glue-Your-Legs-Together Curse on him.

While everyone else laughed their full heads off like a bunch of brainless, unsympathetic idiots, Heidi leaped up and immediately performed the counter curse. The glue disappeared and Nelson got to his feet, looking shaken.

"What happened?" Heidi demanded.

"I was in the library trying to learn about unicorns," sniffed Nelson, "when Snalfoy came out of nowhere and cursed me."

"Go to Professor McGummable and tattle on him!" cried Harold.

"No, I can't! Then I'll be a tattle tale!" Nelson buried his face in his sweater.

Heidi glared at the other Diffindors, who were clumsily stifling their laughter, and then turned back to Nelson. "You have to stand up to Snalfoy! Otherwise he'll keep cursing you when you're not expecting it and you'll look like a fool!"

"I already look like a fool, in case you haven't noticed," snapped Nelson. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed." He turned towards the dormitories, but then turned back to Harold, digging his hand in his pocket. "Here, I heard you collect these card things, right?" he asked, putting something in Harold's hand. "I already have him. 'Night." And with that he turned and stumbled up the staircase.

Harold examined the card, and his face fell. "It's Dunderbore. I've already got -" he broke off and gasped loudly.

"What? What?" Heidi cried.

"Sleighbell!" Harold jumped up and down with excitement. "Nick Sleighbell! I told you I've seen his name before, listen to this: '_Dunderbore is considered to be the greatest wizard of modern times. He is famous for defeating the Dark wizard Spindlewald in 1945, for discovering the twelve uses of dragons' blood, and for his work on alchemy with his partner, Nick Sleighbell!'"_

Heidi smiled so big it looked like it hurt, and her eyes were wild with excitement. "Wait here!" she ordered, and ran up the stairs to the girls dormitories. At that moment, Don groaned and opened his eyes.

"Ow…my head hurts…what happened?" he rasped. Harold filled him in and finished just as Heidi hurried down the stairs and to their table, carrying an enormous book. She dropped it on the table, and the resulting _clunk_ could've been heard down in the dungeons.

"In here!" she gasped, flipping through pages so fast it made Harold sick to watch. "I took this book out of the library for some light reading…I never guessed it could help!"

"_Light_ reading?" choked Don, staring at the sheer thickness of the book, but Heidi shushed him and continued her frantic flipping. At last she cried, "GOT IT!"

"Got what?" demanded Harold. Heidi picked up the book as though it were nothing more than her report for Charms and pointed to a tiny sentence in the middle of the page.

"Nick Sleighbell," she whispered, "is the _only known creator of the Alchemist's Rock!"_

Harold and Don stared at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come on, don't you get it? Look, read right here!" She pointed to another part of the page, and Harold and Don read:

_The Alchemist's Rock is a legendary substance that most think as a myth, but is all too real. The rock will transform any metal into pure gold, and also produces the Juice of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of Alchemist's Rocks over the centuries, but today the only known rock belongs to Mr. Nick Sleighbell, the famous alchemist and leader of his tribe, the Mubetutans (pronounced moo-beh-TOO-tans). Mr. Sleighbell celebrated his six hundred and fifty-sixth birthday last year, while his wife, Panini, celebrated her six hundred and fifty-eighth this past August._

"Don't you see?" Heidi demanded when they had both finished. "That cat thing must be guarding the Alchemist's Rock! And since Sleighbell and Dunderbore are both hippies, they must be friends! So Sleighbell must have asked Dunderbore to guard it for him, knowing that someone was after it, so it could be moved out of Stringotts!"

"His wife's name is _Panini?" _said Don incredulously. Harold and Heidi glared at him.

"Well jeez, no wonder Snake wants it!" Harold pointed out. "That thing can make you rich and immortal! Wow, he doesn't ask for much in life, does he?"

"His wife's name is _Panini?"_ Don gaped at the page. Harold picked up the book, clobbered it against Don's skull, and handed it to Heidi.

"There, he should be unconscious again," said Harold. "And I've decided to play in that Quippish match. If I don't, the Hisserin team will think I'm a scaredy-cat. I'll show them."

The next day, Harold went down to the pitch with the rest of the team, knowing that Heidi and Don were afraid that they would never see him alive again. Woody's pep talk sounded like buzzing as he put on his robes and picked up his Cumulonimbus-Two-Thousand.

Meanwhile, Heidi and Don walked into the stands with Nelson, who kept asking why they had brought their wands to the match. They had been secretly practicing the Glue-Your-Legs-Together Curse to use on Snake if Harold's broomstick started acting like a demented bull again.

"Don't forget the incantation," Heidi whispered. "It's _Glooy legos!_"

"I _know_," snapped Don exasperatedly. "Quit nagging me!"

In the locker room, Woody grabbed Harold by the neck of his robes and pulled him into the corner.

"Harold, listen to me," he said seriously. "You'd better get the Squish early or Snake will start being extremely unfair to us and favor Snufflepuff and then we'll lose and it'll be your fault." he clapped Harold on the back. "No pressure or anything."

"Hey lookit!" cried Gordy. "Dunderbore is watching this time!"

"_Dunderbore?"_ gasped Harold, running over to look. Gordy was right. There was no mistaking that braided silver beard and hippie tie dye robes. Harold grinned so big it hurt. There was no way Snake would lay a pinky finger on him while Dunderbore was there.

Maybe this was why Snake was looking so angry as the team marched onto the field. Don noticed too.

"Hey, Heidi…why does Snake look all pissed off?"

"Maybe it's because _you're_ here, Weezy," sneered a voice. Don and Heidi whirled around, to see Snalfoy, Krabby, and Boyle taking the seats behind them.

"How long do you think Plodder will last on his broom this time, eh?" laughed Snalfoy, pulling a large stack of wizard coins out of his pocket. "Anyone wanna bet? Hmm?"

Don eyed the pile of coins enviously while Heidi stared unblinkingly at Harold, who was racing all over the pitch at a hundred miles an hour, searching for the Squish. The other team's Looker was trying to follow, but kept crashing into other players and the goalposts. His broom was no match for Harold's Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand.

Snalfoy seemed to realize that no one was paying attention to him, so he raised his voice. "You know what? I think I figured out how the Diffindor team picks their players. It's not about skill at all; it's about the people they feel sorry for. There's Plodder, who's got no parents, and the Weezy twins, who've got no money…Wrongbottom, why aren't you on the team? You've got no brain!"

Nelson stiffened and slowly turned around, his face full of fury. "Shut up, Snail-foy," he growled.

"Oh yeah! You tell him, Nelson!" said Don.

"DON! Look at Harold!" screamed Heidi suddenly.

"Uh? What? Where?" Don stared at the Quippish pitch, his eyes wild. Harold had suddenly dived sharply and was shooting towards the ground.

"Oh my God!" yelled Snalfoy. "Weezy, you just got lucky! Plodder obviously saw some money on the ground!"

"GRAAAAAR!" roared Don, and dived at Snalfoy. Nelson cracked his knuckles and tackled Krabby and Boyle simultaneously.

"Go, Harold, go!" screeched Heidi, waving her arms over her head.

In the air, Snake turned around on his broomstick just in time to swerve out of the way. The next second, the scarlet blur that was Harold pulled out of his dive, his hand held high. The audience erupted with cheers.

"Don! DON! He did it! We won! Diffindor in the lead!" shrieked Heidi, jumping up and down like she had a burst of caffeine and hugging a random person in the row in front.

Harold landed and leaped off his broom, grinning like crazy. He was still alive and had won the game in less than five minutes - it had to be a record. He was surrounded by bunches and bunches of screaming girls, all begging for his autograph. Then he felt someone poke him in the back; he jumped looked up at Dunderbore's goofy smile.

"Hi Harold!" he yelled loudly. "I'm glad you won! And you stopped stalking that window! Good job! Winning Quippish matches is a lot more fun than stalking windows, Harold, trust me." And with that he winked and bounced away.

Harold left the locker room a little while later so he could take his broomstick back to the shed. He was so happy that he'd won the match without dying first. Snake could take his broomstick and (well, let's keep it PG, shall we?)

Speaking of Snake…

A hooded figure walked swiftly down the castle steps and into the Big Scary Forest, clearly not wanting to be seen. Harold's excitement over his big win faded. Why the heck was Snake sneaking into the forest while everyone else was eating dinner? Something fishy was going on here. Harold jumped on his Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand and flew silently into the trees. He heard voices, and dipped onto a branch where he was hidden from sight, but could still eavesdrop.

"S-S-Samuel," stammered Quiddle's voice. "Why w-would you want t-t-to meet here of a-all places?"

"Oh, I wanted to keep this secret," Snake said silkily. "Students aren't supposed to find out about the Alchemist's Rock, after all."

Quiddle mumbled something too quiet for Harold to catch. He leaned forward.

"Did you find out how to get by that stupid monster of Hagger's yet?"

"B-but Samuel…I…it's not s-stupid!"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quiddle," Snake growled, stepping closer to the terrified professor.

"I-I-I don't know w-what -"

"Stop being an idiot. You know perfectly well what I mean. You idiot."

An owl hooted right above Harold's head, and he jumped, almost falling out of the tree. He recovered himself just in time to hear Snake say "-your little magical mystery. I'm waiting. TiK ToK on the clock, and Snake don't got what he wants, yo -"

"W-w-what?" Quiddle stammered.

"Nevermind," said Snake quickly. "We'll talk again soon to decide where your loyalties lie." And with that he turned around and swept out of Harold's sight. Quiddle stood alone, leaning up against a tree for support, his face white as a ghost.

"Harold, where have you _been?_" cried Heidi, who had been waiting with Don in the entrance hall.

"YAY HAROLD! WE WON!" roared Don, jumping up and down. "I gave Snalfoy a black eye and Nelson almost destroyed Krabby and Boyle…who knew he had such great fighting abilities? He got knocked unconscious, but he did a lot of damage on those two trolls…c'mon, Ed and Gordy stole some food from the kitchen, we're having a party with party stuff and yummy desserts and happy screaming -"

"Never mind that, come with me!" Harold grabbed their arms, pulled them into an empty classroom, and told them everything he heard.

"We were right! It _is _an Alchemist's Rock, and Snake asked Quiddle if he had found out how to get past Puffy yet, and said something about Quiddle's 'magical mystery', I guess there's other stuff guarding the rock, and Snake probably needs to know how to break the Defense Against the Dark Arts enchantment -"

"Wait, wait," cried Heidi. "Does this mean the rock is only safe as long as Quiddle can stand up to Snake?"

Don groaned. "It'll be gone by next Tuesday." He grinned uneasily at Heidi and Harold. "But at least you won the Quippish match, right?"

Heidi and Harold punched him in the face, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

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**Hey again! How was it? Please review! A LOT A LOT A FREEKIN LOT! quote from one of my weirdo guy friends xD And again IM SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING IN LIKE 3 MONTHS! I promise I will be faster this time! And we're almost reaching the end of the book! Huzzahh! REVIEW, OR ILL SEND SNAKE TO SING TIK TOK TO YOU! RAWR!**


	14. Banana the Texan Spiketail

**HEY HAROLD PLODDER FANS! Im baaaaack! AND NO I DID NOT GIVE UP ON THIS! Summer's comin up, and I'll have oodles and oodles of time to write! After this, three chapters to go and the first chapter of Harold Plodder will have been told! Here, read as Harold, Don, and Heidi come face to face with a new challange - the arrival of a baby dragon. Disclaimers: I do not own the Harry Potter series, but I DO own the following: the fifty-pack of Wizard's Magical Color-Changing Markers, Heidi's crazy spazzyness about exams, Hagger's butt (yes, its true), Heidi's (fake) suicide attempt, a drunk Hagger, and Banana the Texan Spiketail. AND VIOLA! =D**

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**Chapter 14: Banana the Texan Spiketail**

Apparently, Quiddle had much more guts than Harold, Don, and Heidi had predicted. He seemed to become paler and more terrified in the weeks passing, but didn't look as though he'd given in to Snake's demands yet. When they passed the third floor hallway, the three first years would lean up against the door to make sure Puffy was still hissing and snarling inside. Don started screaming at anyone who made fun of Quiddle's pathetic stutter, reducing a small first year Snufflepuff girl to tears and causing Snake to take twenty points from Diffindor.

Heidi, however, had much, much more on her mind than the Alchemist's Rock. She'd stolen Harold fifty-pack of Wizard's Magical Color-Changing Markers and started color coding her notes. Harold was already pissed enough about that, but now Heidi had been yelling at him and Don for not doing the same.

"Heidi, will you just _chill?_" said Don exasperatedly one night, yanking his schedule out of reach of the markers. "The exams are a while away!"

"Um, no they're not!" snapped Heidi.

Don threw up his hands. "They're _ten weeks away!_"

"And you think that's a while?" Heidi hissed. "What is the matter with you people? Can't you see that it's time to study? We need to study! Right now! Or else we all fail! And we'll be doomed! I can't believe I hadn't started earlier, I really can't believe it, I don't know what I was thinking, oh my God, I need to quit slacking, oh my, oh my…"

"HEIDI, SHUT UP!" roared Harold.

"Well, at least the teachers agree with me!" she shot back. It was true. The teachers of Pigzits were piling so much homework onto their backs that Harold was surprised he hadn't suffocated yet. So much for a fun, relaxing Easter holiday.

"Dittany, dittany, dittany…what the hell is dittany?" snapped Don angrily, flipping through the pages of his book. "How are we supposed to remember all this?"

"Hagger!" cried Harold suddenly. "What are you doing in the library?"

Heidi and Don both whipped around to see Hagger bending over a shelf with his butt taking up the whole aisle behind him. He straightened up quickly, his face red, clearly hiding something behind his back. "Uh - nuthin…jus' looking," he lied.

"What's behind your back, Hagger?" said Heidi slowly.

Hagger began to back away towards the door. "Um…me butt?"

"No Hagger, not your butt," snapped Heidi, while Harold and Don collapsed in a fit of giggles next to her. "What else?"

"Nuthin! It's just me butt!" he snapped. "And what are _you _doin' here, eh? Still tryin' to find out who Nick Sleighbell is?"

"Oh, we found him a long time ago," said Don loftily. "And we know what that giant monster cat thing is guarding, it's an Alchemist's -"

"Shhhh!" Hagger looked around wildly. "Don't yeh go yappin' about it here, there's too many witnesses!"

"Then we'll make an uninvited house call eventually and grill you for information," said Harold absentmindedly, still holding his schedule out of reach of the markers.

"Fine! Be a stalker like that!" Hagger began backing away. "Just - do yeh think yeh could give me some notice -"

"Nope."

"Dang. Well…gotta go!" He left the library, scratching his head.

Heidi leaped up and snatched Harold's schedule. "Don, go check and see what section he was in," she ordered.

"HEY!" Harold lunged for Heidi. "Give that back!"

Don got up uneasily and tiptoed over to the section, wisely taking his schedule with him. He came back with his face full of suspicion. "He was in the dragon section!"

"Here, you can have it back now," said Heidi, handing Harold his schedule. Harold took it and groaned at the bright pink and purple scribbled notes all over it. He stuffed it in his bag and said, "Hagger's always wanted a dragon, he said so when I met him."

"But that's illegal!" Don gasped.

Harold shrugged. "So is keeping a carnivorous cat on the third floor of a school."

"I wonder what he's up to?" Heidi mused.

They made the uninvited house call that evening. Harold knocked on the door, surprised to see that the curtains were closed and some windows had pieces of wood blocking them. Hagger opened the door, grabbed the three of them in his arm, and pulled them in, slamming the door behind them.

"Ow - Hagger! - OUCH!" yelled Don.

"Sorry," he grumbled, pushing them down onto a sofa. "Can't let anyone see inside."

It was blazing hot in the hut; even though it had been a warm day, there was a roaring fire in the fireplace. Hagger quickly poured some tea for the three of them and sat down at the table.

"So…yeh wanted to interrogate me?" he grunted.

"Yeah." Harold cut to the chase. "We want to know who…what else is guarding the Alchemist's Rock apart from that Puffy thing."

Hagger frowned. "I can't tell yeh that! One, I don't know meself. I've never been down there. And two, you three know too much already, what with yer snoopin' an' all…I wouldn't tell yeh if I _did_ know!"

"Please, Hagger?" said Heidi, giving Hagger her best puppy dog face. "You know _everything_ that goes on around here! After all, you're the best gamekeeper Pigzits has ever seen! …And you're pretty handsome, too," she added with a warm, affectionate smile. Hagger's face turned red with embarrassment. "We just want to know who helped with the guarding," she went on. "You know, who else Dunderbore trusted to keep the Alchemist's Rock safe."

Hagger straightened up in his chair, looking extremely proud of himself. Harold and Don grinned at Heidi.

"Well…I guess I could tell yeh that…lets see here…he borrowed Puffy from yours truly…and then the teachers did enchantments…" He started counting on his fingers. "Professor Spout, Professor Fitflick, Professor McGummable, Professor Quiddle, Dunderbore himself, and uhhh…oh yeah! Professor Snake!"

"Snake?" said Harold incredulously.

"Yes, Snake, the guy you think was trying to kill you and steal the Rock." Hagger rolled his eyes. "I told yeh, he's tryin' to _protect_ the Rock, not _steal_ it. Jeez!"

Harold glanced at Heidi and Don, and knew that they were all thinking the same thing: if Snake had helped protect the Rock, he must know all the enchantments the other teachers used to help - except Quiddle's, and of course, how to get past Puffy.

"Are you the only person who knows how to get past that cat, Hagger?" he asked.

"Yep. Just me and Dunderbore. No one else." He puffed out his chest.

"Hagger, could you _please _open a window?" gasped Don. Harold glanced at him and saw beads of sweat rolling down his neck. "Its boiling in here! Aaaaarg!"

"No, sorry, I can't do that." Hagger glanced at the fireplace. Harold, Don, and Heidi followed his gaze. Sitting in the fire was a huge, orange egg.

"Um, Hagger?" asked Don nervously. "How did you get that?"

"I won it!" Hagger exclaimed happily. "Some weirdo wanted to play Bingo with me in this old pub - and he bought me a bunch o' drinks, too - actually, I think he was pretty happy ter get rid of it."

"Don't blame him," Don groaned.

Heidi looked alarmed. "But, what are you going to do when it hatches?"

"Whattaya think I'm gonna do?" said Hagger incredulously. "Raise it, of course! I got some books here, I've been lookin' up how to take care of it, and I even found out what breed I got. This here is a Texan Spiketail!" He grinned wide.

"Hagger, listen to me," said Heidi. "You want to raise a dragon in your house. Your house is made of _wood._ When Cutesy Wootsy Dwagon has a temper tantrum, you'll no longer have _any_ house!"

Hagger wasn't listening. He was too busy singing a lullaby while stroking the egg with the fire tongs.

So now they had yet another problem to worry about: what would happen to Hagger if anyone found out that he planned on raising a baby Texan Spiketail in his hut.

A few days later, Helga dropped a letter in Harold's Cheerios at breakfast. He wiped the envelope dry on Don's robes ("HEY!"), ripped it open, and unfolded the letter: _Get yer butt down here, Harold! The egg's hatchin'!_

"C'mon Heidi!" moaned Don as they trudged down to the Herbology greenhouses. "It's a real dragon hatching! Can't we cut class just once?"

"No way!" snapped Heidi angrily. "Like I said before, we've got ten weeks before exams and if we skip class now' we'll get in big trouble! And that's nothing compared to the fix Hagger will be in when someone finds out about what he's doing - mmph!" she protested, for Harold had just slapped his hand against her mouth. Snalfoy was only a few feet away, and had a pretty evil grin on his face. Harold didn't like it one bit.

"Oh, hey Snalfoy!" he called cheerily. "Don't listen to Heidi, she hit her head last night trying to jump out the Diffindor Tower window…guess exams are getting to everyone, huh?" Heidi gave him a murderous look, and Snalfoy stared at both of them in confusion. Before they could screw anything else up, Don pushed them into the greenhouse.

The second the bell rang, Harold, Don, and Heidi sprinted down to Hagger's hut and burst through the door. Hagger had the egg on the table and was staring at it with utmost concentration.

"It's almost out!" he whispered excitedly, without looking up.

No sooner did the three of them sit down when there was a loud _crack!_ The egg split down the middle and a tiny, bright yellow scaly think rolled out onto the table. If Harold had to compare it to something, he would compare it to a shriveled up banana skin that had wings.

"That looks like a shriveled banana skin," Don observed.

"I'll name 'im Banana, then!" cried Hagger triumphantly. Heidi rolled her eyes, then leaped away as the banana-dragon sneezed blue sparks in her direction.

Suddenly Harold gasped - he jumped up and ran to the window. "That miserable, snooping, little newt!"

"What? What?" yelped Don, running over too. Heidi joined them and they all looked out the window to see a pale-skinned boy sprinting back up to the castle.

Snalfoy had seen Banana.

Over the next week, Snalfoy had been shooting very nasty, evil looks in Harold's direction, and it was beginning to piss him off. So he, Don, and Heidi went back down to Hagger's hut and tried to talk some sense into him.

"Just let him go!" Heidi begged, her hair all frazzled from arguing for so long.

"I can't!" Hagger moaned, shaking his head vigorously. "He's too small. He'd die!"

"But Hagger, Snalfoy's gonna turn you in!" Harold said for the tenth time. "And then you'll be fired, and we'll never hear the end of it!"

"No! I'm never sending him away! Never!"

Don slammed his head onto the table. Heidi looked about ready to copy him when suddenly her eyes lit up, and Harold knew she had an idea. "Hey Hagger," she said, grinning slowly. "Got any beer?"

It only took twenty minutes to get Hagger drunk. He lay with his head slumped over the table, one arm hanging free and the other grasping his empty glass.

"So, can we send Banana away yet?" asked Heidi pleasantly.

"Uhhhnnn…whut? No…he's my…draggy-poo…" murmured Hagger.

"Have another drink." Heidi took the beer bottle and poured the last of it into Hagger's glass. Robotically, Hagger gulped it down.

"Please let it work this time," Don groaned. Harold didn't say anything - he was too preoccupied in dodging Banana's sneeze-sparks.

"So, can we send Banana away yet?" Heidi repeated to Hagger.

"Uhhhhnnnn…erg…Banana? Whosthat?" Hagger grunted, blinking slowly.

"He's a poor defenseless dragon that showed up on your doorstep, and the only way he can survive is if you let us send him to safety," blurted Don without thinking.

"I…I've always wanted…a…baby draggy…poo…"

"You wouldn't condemn a baby dragon to death, would you?" Heidi pretended to gasp.

"N…no! O'course not…" Hagger forced out.

"Then let us take him," Harold begged quietly. "It's his only hope."

Hagger was silent for a few moments. Then he finally said, "O…kay…save 'im…please…."

"No problem," said Heidi cheerily. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Hagger."

Hagger fainted.

"Quick, help me get Banana into the crate," whispered Heidi. Harold leaped up and dragged the ready crate out from behind the woodstove. They put a few old blankets into it, along with a unicorn doll that they hoped to God wasn't Hagger's, and very carefully lowered the yellow dragon into it.

"Now what are we going to do with him?" Harold complained. "If we release him into the Big Scary Forest he could find his way back here!"

"It's all arranged," said Don happily. "I wrote a letter to Charles, my brother, asking if he could take him. He's going to be up at the Astronomy Tower tonight at midnight."

"Great!" puffed Heidi, lifting the crate. "Harold and I will bring Banana up there, and you stay here and dispose of all evidence of us getting Hagger drunk."

"Yeah, we don't want _that_ on our permanent record," grumbled Don.

Harold threw the Invisibility Blankie over him and Heidi, and they set off.

About twenty-five minutes later, they were heaving the crate up the Astronomy Tower steps. Unfortunately, the crate made a loud _clunk_ every step.

"Can't you lift it higher?" hissed Heidi, obviously terrified of being caught. _Clunk._

"No, I can't," said Harold through gritted teeth. _Clunk._

"Well try to stop that clunking, or someone will see us!" _Clunk._

"No one's going to see us, Heidi, we're under the Invisibility Blankie!" _Clunk._

"Well then they'll hear us!" she snapped. _Clunk._ "OW THAT WAS MY FOOT YOU IDIOT!"

"They'll definitely hear us now," muttered Harold, rolling his eyes, as Heidi cursed loudly while hopping on one foot. Suddenly he heard voices back down the staircase. "Shhh!" he breathed, slapping a hand to her mouth.

"But Professor! I _know_ he's coming here! I stole his brother's reply out of some book on Dittany!" Snalfoy's voice, no doubt about it.

"Oh? And where _is_ this letter?" asked Professor McGummable dryly.

"Well…I don't have it right now…I um…kinda dropped it in the toilet."

Harold had to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep his laughter unheard.

"Do you know how many times I've heard that?" snapped McGummable. "Give me a break. Now go to bed. Twenty points from Hisserin and a detention for you!" and she dragged him away by the ear.

Heidi had no trouble lifting the crate for the remainder of the journey. "Snalfoy's got detention! Snalfoy's got detention!" she sang.

"Heidi, _shut up,_" Harold pleaded.

At the top of the tower, Charles and his buddies were waiting. Harold and Heidi helped them suspend the crate between their brooms in a clever harness they had constructed. Heidi gave Charles a hug, and Harold shook his hand. Finally, they were nothing but specks against the moon. Banana was gone.

"We did it, Harold!" cried Heidi, skipping down the stairs. "Banana's gone, our lives aren't endangered, and we can focus on studying now! What could possibly go wrong?"

The answer was at the foot of the stairs. Filth was waiting there, holding a giant wet mop and leering at them. "Well well well," he growled. "Having a little nighttime stroll, are we?"

They had forgotten the Invisibility Blankie at the top of the stairs.

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**Tadaaaa! How was it? I think this was a bit shorter than past chapters...hahaha! Sweet! Now I'm contemplating on doing the second book after this one...opinions? Actually I think I'm definitely going to do it. The question is...will you read it? And I need a name suggestion for the Chamber of Secrets. So if anyone has any ideas, tell me in your review somewhere! Please! And thanks for reading! =3**


	15. The Big Scary Forest

**Hiya people! Yep, I updated! Let's all cheer and stuff! w00t! :D Ohmygosh, the next chapter in the book is freaking 26 PAGES T_T so please be patient. I've got lotsa stuff for school I have to do (last minute) and I probably wont update as fast as I did this chapter. But it's coming! ONLY TWO LEFT :'( *sob* Anyway, in this chapter, follow Harold, Heidi, Nelson, Snalfoy, and Hagger into the Big Scary Forest for their latest adventure! Yay! Disclaimer: Do I look rich enough to own Harry Potter? HA no! But I DO own the following: Sneeze's paintball gun, the door that hit Harold in the face, Filth's firefly collection, Heidi's vibes (stolen by Harold?), nonexistant mouthwash, Hagger's pink spear, pegasus tears, unicorns, the planet Uranus, and...well actually thats it I think :) HAVE FUN READING! **

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**Chapter 15: The Big Scary Forest**

"This sucks," muttered Heidi.

That pretty much summed it up. Harold didn't know how things could get worse, and he didn't want to find out. Filth had taken them down to McGummable's office, pushed them into chairs, and told them to wait. Then he left. Heidi was shaking with fear, and Harold was desperately trying to come up with a cover story, but deep down he knew they were cornered. He couldn't believe they'd been so stupid to forget the blankie.

"How could you forget my blankie?" Harold hissed in Heidi's direction.

"It's your blankie, not mine!" she snapped back. "Therefore it's your responsibility! Do you expect me to act like your mommy and correct you every time you forget something?"

"Of course not! But you could've taken a break with your singing and actually helped me remem-"

"Harold!"

Harold jumped and jerked around. If he had thought things couldn't get any worse, then he was dead wrong. Nelson was being escorted into the office by Professor McGummable.

"Harold, what's going on?" he burst out. "I wanted to warn you guys, I saw Snalfoy boasting to his buddies that he was going to get you in trouble, he said you had a banana-drag-" He stopped short at Harold and Heidi's wild arm motions, but it was too late. Professor McGummable looked about ready to kill them.

"What's the matter with you people? I would've never expected this from any of you - Snalfoy probably, but not you. Filth said he caught you in the Astronomy Tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."

It was the first time Heidi was at a loss for words. Instead of answering McGummable, she stared at her shoes.

"I think I've figured it all out," McGummable continued, practically seething. "I'm not stupid, you know. You obviously told Snalfoy a crazy story to get him in trouble, just for laughs. And Nelson heard it too and wandered around the castle to find you and warn you. Is that right?"

Harold wanted to tell Nelson that this wasn't true, but there was no way of letting him know without McGummable knowing. Nelson was looking heartbroken.

"How could you, guys?" he wailed, and began to cry. "It's not funny, you know! I ran around all these hallways looking for you, and you know how much I'm afraid of the dark!"

"Nelson -"

"Don't say my name! You're not worthy!" screamed Nelson.

"_I'm_ not worthy?" said Harold incredulously.

"Stop crying, Nelson!" snapped Heidi.

"I hate you guys!"

"You take that back!"

"Shut up, Harold!"

"Heidi, will you stop yelling at everyone -"

"ALL OF YOU, BE QUIET!" roared McGummable, and they fell silent. "You disgust me! All of you! Four first years out of bed! I'm shocked! All of you will get a detention - yes, even you, Wrongbottom, you were out of bed as well - and fifty points will be taken from Diffindor."

"What?" gasped Harold.

McGummable glared at him. "Make that a hundred."

"No, Professor! You _can't_ -" Heidi began.

"I can do whatever I want," snapped McGummable. "Make that a hundred points _each_."

Heidi made a strange, choking sound, and collapsed in a dead faint. Harold and Nelson had to carry her all the way back up to Diffindor Tower. They left her at the base of the girls' staircase and went to their dormitory.

The next morning, the Diffindors were a bit confused. Why was their hourglass suddenly four hundred points short? Had there been a mistake? And then the news began to spread: Harold Plodder, the Diffindor Quippish hero, was the one who had blew it for them, him and his stupid friends.

From being the most liked/loved/worshipped person in the school, Harold was now the most hated. Not just by the Diffindors, but by the Snufflepuffs and the Gladenstraws too, since they'd all wanted to see Hisserin lose the House Cup for once. People insulted him in the hallways, threw spitballs at him in class, tripped him as he walked around corners, and pushed him down the stairs. Even Sneeze was against him, taking a giant paintball gun, hunting him down between classes and during his free periods, and coating him with rainbow splat-marks. The only person on Harold's side was Don.

"Dude, run, he's gaining on us!" Don gasped, as he and Harold sprinted down the Charms hallway. Sneeze cackled madly and loaded his paintball gun behind them.

"What's…the point?" Harold choked out, gasping for breath. "Everyone…still hates me…dodging Sneeze…won't help…"

"Don't worry about that, they'll forget about it sooner or later!" Don reassured him. "DUCK!" A giant pink paintball whizzed over their heads and exploded on the chandelier. They swerved around the falling droplets and raced through a curtain.

"I…think later…"

"Oh come on! Ed and Gordy have lost zillions of points from Diffindor!"

"Not four hundred…at once!"

"Oh…right…GO LEFT! NO…WAIT!"

"GOTCHA!" squealed Sneeze, launching a blue paintball about the width of the hallway. There was no escape; they got completely doused.

"Fudge," muttered Don. "Go die Sneeze!"

"Never have, never will!" he replied, and zoomed away, snickering.

About a week before exams were supposed to start, Harold was randomly walking by a random classroom thinking about how depressed he was when he heard something. He tiptoed closer and heard a voice. Quiddle's voice.

"No - please, not again - no -"

It sounded like he was being threatened. Harold put his ear by the crack in the door and listened harder.

"But - oh - all right -" he heard Quiddle sniffle. The next second, the door banged open, hitting Harold smack in the face. Quiddle rushed out, sobbing and wiping his eyes with a flowered hanky. The door slowly swung off of Harold's face with a long creeeaaaaak, and Harold stood flattened up against the wall, his mouth wide open.

"Harold? What are you doing here?" said Heidi four hours later. She and Don both took one arm and yanked him off the stone wall. Harold clutched his chest and told them about Quiddle.

"It sounds like Snake was threatening him!" Heidi exclaimed. "Quiddle must've gave in and told him how to break his enchantment!"

"Now all he needs to find out is how to get past Puffy," Don grumbled. "Great."

"We have to tell Dunderbore! He'll know what to do!" Heidi grabbed Harold's arm and began dragging him down the hallway.

"No, Heidi!" yelled Harold, wrenching his arm away. "What's the point of that? We don't have any evidence! And anything we do have will get us in trouble! We could be expelled!"

"Since when did you care about stuff like that?" said Don, staring at him. "Are you channeling Heidi's vibes?"

"Shut up Don," snapped Harold.

"YOU ARE!" cried Heidi. "GIVE ME MY VIBES BACK!"

"I didn't steal your vibes, Heidi!" said Harold, exasperated.

"I don't care! I want them back!" Heidi punched Harold in the nose.

"Aaggowaaaa!" Harold clutched his nose. "FINE! Hold on!" He pulled out a piece of paper and a bright red marker. Using the wall for support, he took the marker and wrote HEIDI'S VIBES on the paper. "Here you go," he said, handing it to her.

"Teehee…thanks Harold." Heidi grinned and clutched the paper to her chest.

"Oh God," said Don, face-palming.

Harold rolled his eyes. "ANYWAY…we're not telling Dunderbore. It's time to stop snooping around." He picked up his bag and led the way back to Diffindor Tower.

The next morning, Harold, Heidi, and Nelson received letters via owl during breakfast. They all read as follows:

You will serve your time tonight at midnight. Meet Mr. Filth in the entrance hall, where he will take you to your assignment. Or else. - Professor M. McGummable

"Fudge," muttered Harold. "I forgot we still had detentions."

"You're an idiot," said Heidi, drinking her orange juice.

"YOU GUYS GOT DETENTIONS, HAHAHAHAHAHA!" yelled Don. Heidi picked up the jug of orange juice, poured it over Don's head, and shoved him off the bench. Everyone within sight of the incident found it quite amusing, despite their new hatred towards Harold and Heidi.

At 11:30 that night, Harold and Heidi left the Diffindor living room and traveled down to the entrance hall, where Filth was waiting with a lantern full of fireflies.

"Hello…delinquents," he wheezed in Harold's face.

"Seriously dude, do you know the meaning of _mouthwash_?" spluttered Harold, eyes streaming.

"Of courseeee…unfortunately, I do not use it. Any more questions?"

"Actually, yes. Can you start using it?"

"Enough with the wise cracks!" snapped Filth. "I'm going to bring you down to your detention destination -"

"Detention destination," Harold snickered. Filth glared at him.

"As I was _saying_, I'm going to bring you down to your detention destination as soon as the other two idiots arrive."

"I'm NOT an idiot!" came Nelson's voice, and he tottered into view.

"Yes you are," said Heidi.

"SHUT UP."

"Cat fight! Cat fight!" Snalfoy came skidding into the room. "I wanna watch!"

"Snalfoy? Cat fights are when two girls fight," Harold informed him.

"I know that. And I see two girls fighting right there!"

"HEY!" yelled Nelson.

"ENOUGH!" roared Filth. "Now everyone form a line and follow me! Or die! I don't care which!"

"Wow, you're nice," muttered Harold. They all followed Filth out the doors and down onto the grounds. Harold was wondering if they were going to come back alive when they were led down to Hagger's hut.

"Yay! We're visiting Hagger!" cried Harold with relief.

"Ew, gross," muttered Snalfoy. Heidi punched him.

"Stop it!" growled Filth. "If you think that this sentence is going to be all happy-kinky-dory, then you can think again!"

"Aw, shut up Filth, yeh mangy brute," came a voice. Hagger was coming down the path to meet them.

"Hagger! You're not drunk anymore!" cried Harold happily.

"Eh? What?" Hagger was confused. Heidi glared at him.

"Nothing, Hagger," said Heidi quickly.

"I'll leave them with you, then," Filth wheezed. "I'll be back at dawn - for their remains." He grinned evilly and started to walk away.

"Wait, Filth!" said Harold suddenly. "What's that jar of fireflies for? Why don't you just carry a lantern or something?"

Filth paused, clearly embarrassed. "Well, I - I collect fireflies," he admitted.

Harold, Heidi, Nelson, and Snalfoy all exchanged a look before bursting into hysterical laughter.

"STOP LAUGHING!" roared Filth. "So what if I have a hobby?"

"Oh, you can have a hobby, Filth," Harold snorted. "I just thought it would be a little more manly than this!" Even Hagger joined in on the laughter.

"STOP! STOP! WAAAAA!" Filth let out a wail and ran back up to the castle.

Hagger guffawed and heaved something over his shoulder. Harold looked closer and saw that it was a long, very sharp spear. And it was pink.

"Hagger, why do you have a pink spear?" he asked slowly.

"We're goin' into the forest, Harold! We need some protection!" he answered.

"Yes, I get that, but why is it pink?"

Hagger appeared to not have heard. Snalfoy took advantage of the silence and stepped forward. "I'm not going in there," he stammered. "There's all sorts of rabid animals in there!"

"Well gawsh, yeh should've thought about that when yeh decided to break the rules!" growled Hagger. "We could always kick yeh out instead. I'd like ter see yer dad's reaction to that!"

Snalfoy glared at him, panic in his eyes, but lowered his head in submission.

"Okay then," said Hagger. "Tooth! TOOTH! C'mon yeh lazy dog, we gotta go! Now everyone, keep close behind me," he ordered, as the giant bulldog came trotting out of the hut. The four first years walked in single-file behind Hagger and into the trees of the Big Scary Forest.

"Look there," he whispered, pointing to the ground in front of him. "See that iridescent rainbow stuff on the ground? The little droplets right there? Those are pegasus tears. There's been a pegasus crying in here for days. And everyone knows that it's a sin to make a pegasus cry!"

"I didn't know that," Harold objected.

"Well of course not, what with the Shmuggles yeh were livin' with," snorted Hagger. "Anyway, we're gonna try and find the poor creature and cheer it up. I brought a teddy bear, see?" He held up a bright yellow teddy bear with a pink bow around its neck. Snalfoy rolled his eyes.

"Let's split into two groups. I'll lead the first one and the second can have Tooth."

"I want Tooth," Snalfoy demanded, glancing at the dog's sharp teeth.

"Take 'im, then, but I'm warnin' yeh, he's a coward," grumbled Hagger. "Nelson, go with him, and Harold and Heidi come along with me. Now if anyone's in trouble, use your wand to send up red fireworks. That way I'll be able to find yeh. Ready? Let's go."

Nelson gave Harold a frightened look before setting off with Snalfoy and Tooth. Hagger led Harold and Heidi in the opposite direction.

"So, Hagger…how exactly is a teddy bear going to cheer up a crying pegasus?" asked Harold.

"I read it in this book!" he answered, whipping a tiny book the size of his thumb out of his pocket. Harold and Heidi read the title: _Five-Hundred (and then some) Possible Ways to Stop a Pegasus From Crying_.

"Are you sure that this is going to wor-"

"GET BEHIND THA' TREE!" roared Hagger. Harold and Heidi dove for the nearest tree and crouched down. The three of them stayed absolutely silent and heard what sounded like a cloak sliding over the dead leaves.

"I knew it," Hagger growled. "There's summat in here that shouldn't be in here."

"Like us?" whispered Heidi, trembling.

"No, no, tha's different," murmured Hagger dismissively. He tensed as a bush a few feet away trembled; something was definitely in there.

"Who goes there?" he called, raising his pink spear. "Come out and show yerself!"

The bush quivered, and then an astonishingly beautiful unicorn emerged from its depths. It's spiral horn had to be at least two feet in length, and it was almost as tall as Hagger. It's coat glistened silver in the moonlight.

"Oh, it's you, Luzio." Hagger breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his spear.

"Good evening, Hagger." Luzio spoke softly and sorrowfully. "About to shoot me, I see."

"No, no, Luzio, I wasn't…just…there's something in here that shouldn't be…never be too careful, right! Oh, this is Harold Plodder and Heidi Grace…students from Pigzits. Luzio's a unicorn, you two."

"I can see that," said Heidi faintly. Harold could tell that she was in awe.

"Uranus is bright tonight," said Luzio, glancing skyward.

"Excuse me?" Hagger choked.

"Yes," the unicorn murmured, gazing intently at the stars.

"Hagger," whispered Heidi, "I think he means the planet."

"I do mean the planet."

"Well then." Hagger yanked on his pants uncomfortably. "Luzio, have you seen a crying pegasus anywhere lately?"

Luzio didn't answer right away, but continued to gaze into space. "The innocent are always victims of evil."

The bush rustled again, and Hagger jumped as another breathtaking unicorn came into view, looking a lot fiercer than the first one.

"Giraldo," said Hagger, nodding to the unicorn.

"Hagger," said Giraldo curtly. "I see that you're doing well."

"Yes, thank you. I was just askin' Luzio, have you seen the crying pegasus anywhere tonight?"

Giraldo padded over next to Luzio and looked to the heavens. "Uranus is bright tonight."

"Eh? Excuse me?" Hagger turned around, trying to look behind him.

"Hagger, he means the planet!" Heidi repeated.

"We do mean the planet," said Luzio and Giraldo at the same time. Harold was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"Yeah, well, we've better get going…gotta find what's makin' the pegasus upset," said Hagger quickly. He grabbed Harold and Heidi and steered them away.

"Never," he growled, stomping his feet, "try ter get a freakin' straight answer outta a unicorn. They're just a bunch o' stargazers, that's what."

"They made me feel uncomfortable," said Harold.

"Tha's normal, Harold, they do that to everyone," Hagger reassured him. "Although they _are_ the most knowledgeable creatures I know."

"Hagger!" cried Heidi suddenly. "Look! Red fireworks! The others are in trouble!"

"Yeh stay here!" yelled Hagger, whipping out his spear. "I'll go get them!" He screwed up his face and ran into the trees, yelling, "AAAAAAAAAAARRRRR!"

"Luzio was hot," Heidi whispered.

"EW, GROSS HEIDI!" groaned Harold, trying to wipe the images out of his head.

Hagger returned a few minutes later with Nelson and Snalfoy, looking extremely pissed off. Apparently Snalfoy had let Nelson know that the whole entire forest was dark and that he was shocked that he hadn't flipped out yet. Nelson had started screaming and sending up fireworks so Hagger could get him out of there.

"Harold!" growled Hagger. "I want yeh to switch with this moron, so we can actually get summat accomplished tonight."

"Okay, Hagger," said Harold, feeling gloomy. He and Snalfoy followed Tooth away from the crying Nelson and deeper into the forest. With every step they took, it seemed to get darker and quieter, until the only sounds Harold could hear were their own footsteps and Tooth's snuffling.

After a few minutes, Harold saw the trees open up into a clearing. He gasped and grabbed Snalfoy's arm to stop him. "Look," he whispered. Tooth whined.

The pegasus was sprawled out on the ground, sobbing terribly. The iridescent rainbow tears had already trickled across the forest floor, making a small pool. Harold had never seen anything so beautiful and heartbreaking. The soft lament of the creature crying actually brought tears to his eyes. Even Snalfoy was sniffling beside him, and Tooth was all-out howling.

Harold took a step towards the pegasus, wanting to help, when a sudden movement made him freeze. A dark, cloaked figure emerged from the opposite side of the clearing and glided towards the creature. Harold, Snalfoy, and Tooth stood transfixed. The figure crouched down beside the pool of tears and began to drink, almost drowning out the crying with its slurping.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Snalfoy shrieked in terror and bolted, Tooth right on his heels. The figure whipped around and stared right at Harold, pegasus tears dribbling down its front. It rose up and glided towards him. Harold was frozen with fear and could not move.

All of a sudden, his scar seared with pain. Harold yelled and clapped his hands to his forehead, sinking to his knees. The pain increased, and it was all Harold could to do stay conscious, but he felt himself slowly losing his control. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was something leap over his head and charge at the figure.

"Harold Plodder? Are you alright?" whispered a voice.

"Uhhhnn…" Harold groaned, struggling to open his eyes. He felt a hoof nudge his shoulder.

"Please, Harold Plodder, awake. It is not safe for you in the forest."

Harold opened his eyes to see another unicorn standing over him. It wasn't Luzio or Giraldo.

"What…happened?" he stammered, getting to his feet. "Was that you that attacked the…whatever it was?"

"Yes," said the unicorn. "Come, come quickly, on my back. We need to get you somewhere safe."

"Hagger's here somewhere," he told the unicorn, getting on his back.

"I will take you to him. Oh, and my name is Lorenzo."

There was a sudden crash and two unicorns exploded from the bushes. It was Luzio and Giraldo.

"Why do you guys keep coming from bushes?" asked Harold. Naturally they ignored him.

"Lorenzo!" roared Giraldo. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I am taking Harold Plodder to safety."

"You're letting a human ride on your back? Are you a donkey, waiting to cater to the needs of humans?"

"Don't you _dare_ call me a donkey!" hissed Lorenzo, shaking with cold fury.

"I'll call you anything I want! Have you decided to become a servant to Harold Plodder?"

"Seriously guys, you can just call me Harold," said Harold uncomfortably.

Lorenzo reared into the air, and Harold had to grab onto his mane to stay on.

"Did you not see the pegasus?" Lorenzo bellowed at Giraldo. "Did you not understand the reason it was reduced to tears? I will set myself against the evil in this world, Giraldo, even if it means letting a human ride on my back." And with that he took off down the path, leaving Harold to cling to his mane the best he could.

"Dude - sorry, I mean Lorenzo - why is Giraldo so mad at you?" gasped Harold, trying to dodge the branches whipping him across the face. "And what was that - thing?"

Lorenzo slowed to a trot, causing Harold to be repeatedly bounced up and down. He didn't answer at first. After a while he said, "Harold Plodder, do you know what pegasus tears are used for?"

Harold was stumped. "No…we've only used the hair in Potions class."

"That's because it is a terrible thing to make a pegasus cry." said Lorenzo. "A pegasus has no worries, no fear, nothing to disrupt it's state of happiness and grace. Even if being hunted by a predator, the pegasus does not panic, only stays calm and determined. After the pegasus cries, this state is shattered forever. It no longer can be, how you say, 'cheered up'. It will never feel the same happiness again, but will wander the earth and sky in misery forever." Lorenzo lowered his head. "Only a being that has nothing to lose would dare break the contentment of this creature. And all that hear its weeping will never forget it."

Harold remembered how he had felt when he heard the pegasus cry. Lorenzo's story had shocked him. Why would anyone do such a thing to an innocent creature?

"But - what do pegasus tears do?" he whispered.

"They will make the drinker immortal - but the drinker will live a cursed life from the moment the tears touch their lips." murmured Lorenzo.

"Well then, what's the point? Wouldn't it be better just to die than to be cursed forever? I mean, who would want that?"

"Harold, do you know what is hidden in the castle at this very moment?"

"Oh…oh yeah! The Alchemist's Rock! The Juice of Life! But really, who -"

Lorenzo's ice blue eyes pierced Harold's green ones with intensity. "Surely you, of all people, would know the one person who has clung to life, waiting for an opportunity like this to regain power?"

It was as though someone had poured an entire bucket of icy water down the back of Harold's shirt. He gulped, suddenly realizing who Lorenzo meant. "Do you seriously mean," he croaked, "that was _Mol_-"

"HAROLD! Harold, where are you?"

Heidi was sprinting up the path towards them, Hagger puffing along right behind. Harold jumped down from Lorenzo's back and ran to meet them.

"I'm here, right in front of you," he announced unnecessarily. Heidi rolled her eyes. "Oh, and Hagger, the pegasus is back there. It's really crying."

"Poor thing," sighed Hagger. "Luckily, I gots the teddy bear!"

"That won't help, fair Hagger," said Lorenzo quietly. Hagger looked crestfallen. "Harold, you are safe now," he murmured, turning to him. "I will leave you here."

"Okay. And thanks Lorenzo. Very much." Harold said gratefully. Lorenzo nodded and plunged silently into the trees.

Don had fallen asleep in the living room by the time they returned. Nelson staggered through the portrait hole and up the stairs to the dormitory without a single word. Harold and Heidi ran over to Don and shook him awake. His eyes opened at once and he screamed something about Snake dancing in the bathtub before becoming sane. Then Harold started to rant.

"Snake wants the Rock for Moldywart - really guys, the name's not that funny - Moldywart's waiting in the forest and this whole time we thought Snake just wanted to get rich -"

"Stop saying…the name!" choked Don, trying to stifle his laughter.

"Oh, shut up Don," snapped Harold. "As soon as Snake manages to steal the Rock, he'll bring it to Moldywart, and he'll come and kill me to death. I hope Giraldo is happy."

"Harold, stop," said Heidi, looking stricken. "You're in Pigzits, not standing in the middle of a field with no protection. Dunderbore's here. As long as Dunderbore is around, That Guy can't lay a pinky on you. So just calm down and go to bed!" For a moment, she sounded like a tame Aunt Pansy. Harold obeyed.

But the night's surprises were not over. As he yanked back the sheets on his bed, the silvery Invisibility Blankie was folded neatly underneath them, accompanied with a note. Harold opened it up.

_Just in case_.

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**So whatcha think? Epic? Lame? LONG? (yes) I still need ideas for the name of the next book! Chamber of Secrets = ? Leave your ideas in the reviews! Please! And that means review! DUH! Review, or I'll send Giraldo after you! Btw, like the names I came up with for the unicorns? I googled "mysterious male names" and I got this whole list. Apparent Luzio means "light" and Giraldo is some warrior thing. And I just liked Lorenzo (and I cant remember what it means xD) So please review!**


	16. The Epic Trapdoor Adventure

**Hello readers! Get ready for a long one! :D This was pretty fun to write. Well, they're all pretty fun to write. I LOVE writing Harold Plodder! I'm definitely doing a second book, so get excited! Anyway lemme stop blabbering so you can read this chapter. Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter or any of J. K. Rowling's awesome ideas, but I DO own the following: Everlasting Ice Cream, Mutant Strawberry Smoothie, Puffy the three-headed cat, Dunderbore's prized bunny slipper collection, Don's singing abilities, Strangle Pillows, that dumb riddle I came up with, Don's ability to knock himself out with a door, and Harold's bravery. YAY READ NOW!**

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**Chapter 16: The Epic Trapdoor Adventure**

Looking back on it, Harold had no idea how he managed to get through all his exams while freaking out that Moldywart was going to break into Pigzits. In addition, it was so hot that he was surprised the school didn't melt. During his Charms exam, Professor Fitflick had gladly given in to the students' complaints and turned the classroom into a temporary igloo. The students were allowed to snack on some Everlasting Ice Cream while they worked.

Exams were taken extremely seriously at Pigzits. The students were given special quills that emitted large high-pitched squeaks if the student was cheating. Along with the written part, the students were required to do a practical as well. Professor Fitflick had them make popsicles dance across a desk, while Professor McGummable gave them a guinea pig and told them to transfigure it into a wicker basket. Snake caused many students to burst into tears, as he spent the entire practical swooping around the room and glaring at students while they tried to remember how to concoct a Memory Loss potion.

Finally, when exams were over, Harold, Don, and Heidi walked down to the lake and relaxed underneath a droopy tree. Harold tried to ignore the shooting pains from his scar by watching the Weezy twins and Steve Gordon poke the tentacles of a giant octopus, which was floating lazily on the surface of the water.

"Harold, if you're gong to sit here and gasp with pain every five seconds, maybe you should go to the nurse," said Heidi as Harold clapped his hand to his forehead yet again.

"I'm not sick!" he snapped. "It's a warning, or something -"

"Yeah, a warning that you're going insane," mumbled Don.

"I'm _not_ going insane!"

"Well _something's_ going on up there -"

"Oh shut up you two," said Heidi sharply. "It's just exam stress wearing off, it'll go away."

Harold shook his head, then wished he hadn't as another pain pierced his scar. Something was up. He could feel it. Literally. Something was fishy about Hagger…but he would _never _betray Dunderbore…unless….

"Holy crap!" yelled Harold. He leaped up and started running down the hill.

"Dude, come back!" Don chased after him.

"Wait, wait! Wait for me!" gasped Heidi. Harold looked back and saw her trying to stuff all her notes and markers into her backpack while running.

"Hurry up!" snapped Harold. "We've got to go and see Hagger now!"

"But why?" Don puffed, swinging his arms back and forth to gain momentum.

"Don't you realize how weird it is that some random guy just _happened _to have a dragon, and _happened_ to find Hagger, who's always wanted one? I can't believe I didn't realize this before!"

"What are you talking about?" gasped Heidi, finally catching up, but Harold didn't answer. He put on another burst of speed, but tripped over a tree root and collapsed to the ground. Don and Heidi tripped over him and went flying, Don yelling, "MOMMY!" The three of them rolled ungracefully down the hill and crashed in a heap at Hagger's feet.

"Nice of yeh to drop by," said Hagger, grinning. "I guess now that exams are over yeh want ter rough it up a bit?"

"Not now, Hagger," Harold groaned, struggling to stand up. Hagger rolled his eyes and in one swift motion grabbed the top of Harold's head and lifted him effortlessly to his feet. Then he did the same to Don and Heidi.

"Now, what brings yeh here?" he asked, going back to shucking three-foot-long ears of corn. "Want some mutant strawberry smoothie?"

"Oh, yes," drooled Don, but Harold cut him off.

"No, Hagger, we don't have time. Could you -"

"How could yeh not have time fer me famous mutant strawberry smoothie?" gasped Hagger incredulously.

Ten minutes later a very annoyed Harold and grateful Don and Heidi were sitting at a large picnic table with oversized glasses of mutant strawberry smoothie.

"Thank you Hagger," said Heidi, sipping the smoothie through a Blue's Clues straw.

"No problem, you three. Now, what is it that yeh need, Harold?"

Harold got straight to the point. "Do you remember anything about the night you won Banana? What did that stranger look like?"

Hagger furrowed his brow. "Dunno," he mused. "The guy was wearin' this big black cloaky thing, and he wouldn't take it off."

He caught sight of Harold, Don, and Heidi's looks of shock and backpedaled. "Well, that's not unusual, yeh know, that's how everyone dresses down at The Pig's Butt."

Harold choked on his smoothie. "Excuse me?"

"The Pig's Butt," Hagger repeated. "That's the name of the tavern we were in."

Don burst out laughing. Heidi looked downright disgusted.

"Never mind that," Harold snapped, kicking Don under the table, which unfortunately only made him laugh harder. "What did you guys talk about?"

Hagger furrowed his brow again. "Well, let's see…I told him that I worked at Pigzits as Gamekeeper…an' how I loved magical creatures…uh…gawd it's hard to remember, he kept buyin' me drinks…well…he wanted to know what kinda creatures I looked after, so I told him about Puffy -"

"Puffy? What about Puffy?" Harold demanded.

Hagger looked taken aback. "Gawd I don't know! He wanted to know if Puffy was hard to look after, so I told him hell no, as long as yeh got a decent singin' voice he'll fall right to sleep!"

Harold, Don, and Heidi stared at each other, horrorstruck.

"No - I shouldn't 'ave told yeh that!" yelped Hagger, waving the corn around so the stringy stuff flew everywhere. "Don't - wait - where yeh goin'? Come back! Yeh didn't finish these here smoothies!" But the three of them were already racing back to the school. They didn't speak until they had reached the entrance hall.

"We have to tell Dunderbore," Harold gasped, clutching his chest. "It was either Snake or Moldywart under that cloaky thing and I bet it was easy for him to get Hagger drunk -"

"Really, it's not that hard," Don agreed. "We did it."

"Good point," said Harold. "Now where's Dunderbore's office?"

The three of them stared around the hallway frantically, as though looking for a big neon sign that said _to Dunderbore's Office_. No one had ever mentioned to the first years where it was.

"Well then, I guess we'll just have to -"

"Plodder! Weezy! Grace! What are you doing inside?" Professor McGummable was striding down the hallway towards them, carrying an armload of multicolored bunny slippers.

Heidi took a deep breath and seemed to steel herself. "We need to see Professor Dunderbore!"

"See Professor Dunderbore?" Professor McGummable repeated.

"See Professor Dunderbore!" Heidi nodded empathetically.

"Why do you want to see Professor Dunderbore?" asked Professor McGummable.

Harold stepped in. "We, uh - can't tell you. It's kind of a…secret."

Professor McGummable rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, but Professor Dunderbore left ten minutes ago. The Magical Ministry sent him an owl and he flew off to Boston."

"He's _gone_?" gasped Don, looking horrified.

"Yes, he's _gone._ He entrusted me to look after his prized collection of bunny slippers while he was away." Professor McGummable eyed the fuzzy objects in her arms and rolled her eyes again.

"Professor, look, this is important," begged Harold, throwing caution to the winds, "it's about the Alchemist's Rock!"

Professor McGummable gasped loudly, and the countless bunny slippers tumbled from her arms. Most of them emitted loud squeaks when they hit the floor. Some started shooting fireworks. One pair caught on fire. And one pair started singing. "_I love you, you love me, we're a happy family -"_

"SHUT UP!" roared McGummable, and surprisingly, the singing, squeaking, exploding, and burning stopped. Slowly, she turned to Harold.

"Now Harold," she said quietly. "Students are not supposed to know about the Rock."

"Well students aren't supposed to eat ice cream during exams, are they?" Harold challenged.

"What?"

"Never mind," said Harold quickly. "Professor, please, I think - I _know_ - that someone's trying to steal the Rock. We have to get Dunderbore back!"

"Professor Dunderbore will be back tomorrow," said McGummable shortly. "Until then, go outside, get a tan, and stop worrying about the Rock. It's perfectly safe." And with that, she scooped up the bunny slippers and strutted away.

"Great. Just great." muttered Don.

"I don't believe this!" exclaimed Harold. "It's going to happen tonight, I know it, Snake probably sent that note to Dunderbore and got him out of his way, and he knows everything else about the enchantments -"

"What enchantments?" whispered a voice right behind them.

Don jumped backward with shock and crashed right into Snake. The two of them toppled to the ground, Don on his hands and knees on Snake's chest.

"Uh - sorry - didn't see you there," mumbled Don, his face bright red.

"Get off me, Weezy!" snarled Snake, struggling to his feet. Don rolled off onto the floor and didn't bother helping the potions master stand up.

"You three seem to be sneaking around too much lately," Snake whispered. "Well let me tell you something - if I catch you having a nighttime stroll once more, I'll kick you out of this school myself!"

"You can try," snapped Harold.

"I will succeed," Snake retorted.

"Yeah, right!" Don snorted.

"Shut _up _you two," hissed Heidi, and dragged them outside by their collars.

"We have to follow Snake," said Harold, massaging his neck. "Heidi, go follow him."

"Don't tell me what to do!" she cried indignantly.

"Yeah, Heidi, you do it," Don grunted.

"Why me? Why don't you two do it?"

"Because we don't want to."

"Why you _little_ -"

"Now, now, Heidi, we don't need to be strangling Don yet," said Harold quickly, removing Heidi's hands from around Don's throat. "Heidi, you can wait outside the staffroom and if Snake sees you, you can say that you're waiting for Professor Fitflick or something."

"Why would I do that?" said Heidi slowly.

"_Oh, Professor Fitflick,_" mimicked Don in a high, squeaky voice. _"I'm oh so sad! Please help me! I'm sure I failed my whole exam! I don't know anything! You need to help me! I need some moral support! I'm getting depressed! I -"_

"Don, shut up, I get it!" growled Heidi, red in the face.

"So you go do that, and me and Don will go patrol the third floor hallway," Harold agreed.

But unfortunately they couldn't get anywhere near the third floor hallway. Professor McGummable seemed to have anticipated their next move, and was waiting at the top of the stairway to the third floor. She screamed and threw enlarged flaming bunny slippers at their heads while Sneeze, who had heard the commotion, joined in with his paintball gun. Covered in paint and burns, they staggered back to the Diffindor living room, Don saying, "Gosh, good thing Heidi's on Snake's tail," and no sooner had they sank into the couch when Heidi burst through the portrait hole.

"Oh my goodness!" she gasped. "I failed! Snake came out and asked why I was wasting my time standing there, and I said I was waiting for Fitflick, so he's all _well then I'll just go get him for you, shall I?_ and he walked off and I just got away!"

"Well then it all comes down to this." Harold stood up dramatically and brushed soot off his shirt. "I'm going down there before him."

"No Harold! You can't!" wailed Heidi, throwing herself at him and sobbing.

"Why not?" asked Harold, thinking, _huh, maybe she think's I could die down there._

"You could get expelled!" she cried. Harold's daydream evaporated, and he exploded.

"So? _So?_ Who cares about getting expelled now? If Moldywart comes back, it won't matter whether I'm expelled or sitting here in school! He's still going to find me! And who knows, he'll probably turn this place into a Dark Arts school! So I'm going through that trapdoor and I don't care _what _you say, got it? He killed my parents!"

"You're right, Harold," whispered Heidi.

"He killed my parents!" wailed Harold, tears coming to his eyes. "_He killed my parents!"_

"We _know_, Harold!" said Don.

"Nooooo! He killed my _parents! _WAAAAAA! WAAAAA-"

"HAROLD PLODDER!" roared Heidi. She swung her arm back and slapped Harold across the face so hard his face snapped to the side. Heidi pushed him into the couch and got in his face.

"Now you listen to me," she said in a quiet, yet terrifying voice. "You are going to stop crying _right now_, you hear? Not in five minutes, _now. _And you're going to get that Blankie and cover the three of us and save the world, _with us._ Because we're not leaving you to go by yourself. And if I hear any crying _at all_ during the adventure, I'm gonna smack you into next week! Got it?"

Harold just stared at her in shock.

"Harold!"

"Got it," he choked out.

"Good." Heidi smiled sweetly. "Now you two try not to do anything stupid while I find some spells that might be useful."

"Harold?" whispered Don after she walked away.

"Yeah?"

"Heidi scares me."

After dinner, the three stayed incognito in the living room. It wasn't hard, since everyone still hated them for losing all those points. But Harold was starting to think that Heidi had officially gone crazy.

"I can still see you!" she hissed at Harold from underneath the couch.

"Heidi, we don't have to hide, no one cares about us!" Harold groaned, sprawled out underneath the coffee table.

"Pull your leg in more! Don, duck down, I can see your hair!"

Don rolled his eyes and tried his best to slide down behind a potted plant.

"Heidi, seriously, no one's here now, everyone went to bed!" gasped Harold, starting to feel claustrophobic.

"No! Nelson's still up, he doesn't go to bed until eleven fifty-five!"

"What time is it?"

"Eleven fifty-four."

"This is ridiculous," grumbled Don.

"Well he's probably in the dormitory now anyway, so let's go!" Harold slid out from under the coffee table. Don pushed the plant out of the way and stepped out in front of the fireplace.

"Fine," muttered Heidi, coming out from under the couch. "Let's go."

"Where're you going?" Nelson emerged from a chair in the corner.

"You idiots!" Heidi snapped at Harold and Don.

"Nothing, Nelson, we're just going to bed," said Don cheerily.

"Then why do you have the Invisibility Blankie?"

"I sleep with it -"

"No, Nelson, Harold and Don are escorting me to the bathroom," Heidi interrupted. Harold and Don laughed.

"No you're not! You're midnight wandering again, aren't you?" Nelson was freaking out. "Well guess what? You're not going! I won't let you! If you so much as move towards that portrait hole, I'll - I'll hit you! Hard!" He put up his fists.

Don looked sick. "Heidi…_do something_," he begged.

"Okay." Heidi whipped out her wand. "_Freezus!"_

A bright blue jet of light shot out of her wand and engulfed Nelson. The next second, he was completely trapped in a block of ice.

"Awesome!" cried Don.

"Okay, we can go now." Heidi led the way out of the portrait hole.

"Is that you, Harold, Don, Heidi?" asked the Fat Cat.

"Nope." Harold threw the Invisibility Blankie over the three of them, and they set off towards the third floor hallway.

On the way, they warded off countless hungry lions ("Uh oh, here comes Mrs. Morris again."), huge armies equipped with lethal weapons ("It's Sneeze and his paintball gun! Duck!"), horrible, wailing demons ("Go this way, the Fat Priest is coming the other way."), and giant, poisonous snails ("Ew! Snalfoy!"). Other than that, there were no major problems. Heidi opened the door using her spell, and they tiptoed inside.

Immediately the three-headed cat started to hiss and spit. Harold watched it get to its feet and raise a paw, as if ready to scratch their faces off.

"Quick! Someone start singing!" squeaked Heidi.

"I can't sing," said Harold quickly.

"Don! SING!"

"What?" Don looked terrified.

"SING!"

Don opened his mouth. "Ohhh say can you seeeeee? By the dawn's early liiiight?"

It was horrible, off-key, and screechy, but from the first word, Puffy's eyes (all six of them) started to close. With a purr loud enough to sound like a squadron of fighter jets, it sank to the floor, sheathing its claws.

"Keep going, keep going!" Heidi encouraged, going over to the trapdoor with Harold.

"Who's broad stripes and bright staaaaars, through the…uh…uh oh," Don broke off, mouthing, _I can't remember the words!_

"Sing something else!" hissed Heidi. Harold stayed completely still, half leaned over to reach the iron loop on the trapdoor, as Puffy's snarls filled the air again.

"What?" Don was panicking.

"ANYTHING!"

"Uh…Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Puffy, and please don't kill me!"

Puffy fell asleep again, and Don prattled on.

"Help me move his paw," whispered Harold. Together, he and Heidi gently lifted the creature's furry paw off of the trapdoor.

"I'm siiinging, and I'm in a stoooore, well no I'm noooot, I'm in the third floor hallwaaaay, and I'm siiinging, laaaa la lalala laaalaaaaaaa…"

Heidi unlocked the trapdoor, and it swung open with a _creeeaak._ Don sang louder.

"Take! Me out to the baaaaaallgame, take! Me out to the -"

"Don, we got it open, come on!"

Don started running towards them. "Buy me some…peanuts and…yeah I'm leaving good night!"

The three of them jumped into the hole just as Puffy started to growl. Harold felt cool air rushing past him, and a few seconds later they landed on something soft with a muffled _FWOOP._

"Sweet. Soft landing," Don commented.

"What - these look like pillows!" said Harold, picking up a large purple one.

"Pillows? Really?" Don picked up a green one, bemused. "Who puts pillows at the bottom of a trapdoor leading to death traps?"

"I don't know, but I guess we're safe for now," said Harold.

He was wrong.

Suddenly, a bunch of pillows rose up into the air. It was a mesmerizing sight, all the colors of the rainbow in the form of pillows. Before the two boys had a chance to admire it, the pillows threw themselves at them and started hitting them across the face.

"Hey! What the - ow! OW!"

"Get off! No! Ouch! Aaaagh!"

"You idiots!" yelled Heidi, standing against the wall of the room. She had climbed out of the pillow pile as soon as she had landed, a suspicion forming in her mind. And she was right.

"These are Strangle Pillows!" she yelled at them. "How could you mistake them for real pillows?"

"Because they look like real pillows?" gasped Don while getting suffocated by a blue pillow.

"Help us, Heidi!" cried Harold, as a yellow pillow pushed his face into the pile.

"Okay okay - Strangle Pillows - Professor Fitflick said - what did he say - they don't like water!"

"So throw water on them!" Harold wheezed.

"Yeah, but there isn't a sink down here!"

"THERE ISN'T A SINK?" roared Don, punching the blue pillow. "ARE YOU CRAZY? YOU'RE A _WITCH!"_

"Oh yeah!" Heidi whipped out her wand, and a fountain of water spurted out, drenching everything. The pillows emitted high-pitched squeals and simultaneously bounced into a cabinet in the far wall. Harold and Don stood up, squeezing water out of their hair.

"Thanks, Heidi," said Harold.

"Yeah, you're lucky we didn't get suffocated," grumbled Don. "If I had died from being suffocated by a few pillows because you said _there's no sink down here,_ I would have come to haunt you in the afterlife."

"Never mind that, let's go, we have to hurry." Harold led the way down the tunnel. The three of them lit their wands and found it easier to see where they were going. When they entered the next room, Harold and Don both stopped and looked at the floor first. Heidi rolled her eyes.

"Okay, there's no pillows here," Don reported.

"Look up," Heidi suggested.

Harold and Don looked up, looking nervous. The ceiling of the room was impossible to see - maybe there _was _no ceiling - because it looked just like outer space. Harold could see the planets in their solar system all circulating around the sun in the center. In addition, hundreds, maybe thousands of stars were flying around the room. Some were larger than others, and some were different colors. The door was on the other side of the room, and it had a tiny silver lock on it. The keyhole was in the shape of a star.

"Okay then," said Don. "We probably have to catch the right star and fit it in the lock to open the door, that's all."

"How are we going to do that?" demanded Heidi. "We're human, not birds. We can't fly!"

"There's broomsticks over there," said Harold, pointing to a table in the far corner of the room. There were four or five broomsticks laid across the top.

"Okay, here's the plan," whispered Don, as though the stars could hear him. "Me and Heidi can't fly well, so we'll just corner the star while you do the catching, Harold."

"Sound's good," Harold agreed. "Now when I say go, I want you to -"

Before he could finish that sentence, he was interrupted by the clinking of metal hitting against metal. The three of them whirled around and looked up. A small, silver star was being crashed into by a few larger, gold stars. It reminded Harold of a few thugs ganging up on a small kid on the playground. After a few more collisions, the silver star fell to the ground and lay there, twitching. Harold, Don, and Heidi stared at it.

"Well then," said Harold, putting the broom down. "Forget that plan. I guess I'll just unlock the door now." He strode forward, picked up the tiny star, and walked over to the door. When he put it in the lock, it clicked open, and Heidi turned the knob of the door. Harold put the star back on the ground, and he and Don followed Heidi into the next room.

The next room was so dark that they couldn't see anything at all. But as soon as Harold stepped forward the room was flooded with light, which revealed a shocking sight. The whole floor was an enormous Monopoly board.

"Wow!" cried Don, rushing to the "Go" spot. "Look at these pieces! They look like they're made out of solid iron! Look, we've got a three-headed cat, a pillow, a star, an ogre, a potion bottle, and a skull. Pretty neat, huh?"

"Yeah, really awesome," said Harold, sharing a concerned glance with Heidi. "But what do we have to do?"

"Well it's obvious, isn't it?" Don walked back to Harold. "We have to win to get to the door!"

"But that's going to take like three hours!" Heidi protested.

"Got any better ideas?"

"…No."

"Well then." Don clapped his hands together. "Since you guys suck at Monopoly, no offense, you have to listen to me, got it? It's three against three, so if one of us wins, we're across."

"Just tell us what to do, and we'll do it," said Harold determinedly.

"Okay…Heidi, you can be the cat, Harold, take the pillow, and I'll be the star."

It felt like the longest Monopoly game Harold had ever played, but maybe that was only because of how much time they had to save the world. Don directed Heidi and Harold around, helping them build and take over properties.

At last, Don managed to bankrupt the last piece, the skull. To Harold's astonishment, it opened its mouth wide and spat out a key. The key to the door.

"Yes! We did it, Harold!" Don grabbed the key and raced over to the door, Harold and Heidi right on his heels. He put it in the lock, and without warning the door banged open, smashing him against the wall.

"DON!" screamed Heidi.

The door slowly swung away from the wall, and Don collapsed to the ground. Heidi rushed to his side, checking his pulse. "I think the door knocked him out," she told Harold.

"Well we don't have time to carry him with us," Harold told her. "Let's leave him here. This is probably the safest room anyway."

Heidi dragged Don over to his piece, the star, and then followed Harold through the doorway.

A horrible smell filled the room. Coughing and spluttering, Harold and Heidi covered their noses and ran to the other side. Harold noticed an ogre laying on the floor in the center of the room, out cold.

"Come on, Heidi, he's unconscious, he won't hurt you," whispered Harold, seeing Heidi trembling with fear. He remembered Shrek only too well. Quickly, he steered her through the doorway.

The only things in this room were seven potion bottles sitting in a line on a table.

"Snake's, I think," said Harold, walking over to the table. As soon as they reached it, the perimeter of the room erupted into fire. The fire blocking the way ahead was purple, and the fire blocking the way back was blue.

"Hey, look!" Heidi exclaimed, pointing at the table. There was a piece of rolled up parchment laying in the middle. Harold unrolled it and Heidi read aloud.

"_Five of these bottles are empty of liquid, but not of steam_

_Two of these bottles are empty of steam, but not of liquid_

_Each substance is invisible to the eye alone_

_A liquid put between two steams will transform to steam_

_A steam put between two liquids will transform to liquid_

_A liquid will put you in harm's way_

_A steam will keep you safe_

_The substance you choose must have been transformed_

_An original substance will poison the drinker."_

"Good grief," muttered Harold, feeling dizzy.

"It's a puzzle!" Heidi said excitedly. "I love puzzles!"

"Good, because I don't."

"Let's see…" Heidi stared at the bottles, looking confused. "I know what we have to do, but I don't see how we can do it. If the substances are invisible, how can we tell whether they're steam or liquid?"

"But they're not invisible!" Harold protested.

"Yes they are! It says so right here!" Heidi pointed to the puzzle. "_Each substance is invisible to the eye alone."_

"Well then how come I can see them?" Harold asked.

"You can _see _them?" Heidi's eyes widened with understanding. "Of course! Invisible to the eye alone! You have glasses, so you can see!"

"The bottles on either end are liquid, and the rest are steam," Harold told her.

"Great! Hold on one second." Heidi busied herself with the bottles, mixing them up a few times and muttering to herself. Finally she held out two bottles. "What do these look like, Harold?"

Harold looked into the bottles. One was liquid and one was steam, but as he looked, the substances changed color. The liquid turned purple, and the steam turned blue.

"The one on your left is purple liquid," he reported. "And the one on your right is blue steam."

"Great!" Heidi grinned. "The purple will get the drinker towards the Rock."

"Good. Heidi, listen to me. You take the blue steam - no, _listen_ - take it, get Don, and use those brooms in the star room to get out. Send an owl to Dunderbore as soon as you get out. I may be able to hold Snake off for a while, but I'll need help eventually."

"But Harold -" Heidi's lip was trembling. "What if That Guy is there?"

"Well…I escaped once, didn't I?" he said, pointing to his star-shaped scar. "I could escape again - mmmpph! Hey!" Heidi had dashed over and thrown her arms around him.

"You're a great wizard, Harold," she sobbed.

"Oh, come on, I'm not as good as you," mumbled Harold, red with embarrassment.

"No, Harold. You don't need to be clever to be a great wizard. You have strong friendships and bravery and _humor_ - oh, _Harold!_"

"I'll be fine," he promised. "You drink first."

Heidi tipped the blue steam into her mouth. "Good luck!" she called, and ran into the blue fire. Suddenly she started to scream.

"_Heidi!_" yelled Harold, horrified.

"Just kidding," said Heidi, grinning. Then she disappeared.

Harold took a deep breath, then drained the bottle. It tasted like ice.

"Get ready, Moldywart," he said loudly. "I'm gonna kick your ass."

And he walked into the flames.

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**So? How was it? GO HAROLD! YEAH! *fist pump* ONLY ONE CHAPTER LEFT :'( I'm gonna miss this story! Luckily I've got the next one to write! :D So review please please please please! Please! New people check this out! Yeah! Or I'll knock you out with a door! WHACK! **


	17. The Guy With A Second Face

**THE LAST CHAPTER IS UP! :D yaaaaay! It was fun to write! DUH! At long last, follow Harold as he challenges Moldywart for the second time in his life! And saves the day? xD Disclaimers: I do not own HARRY POTTER AND THE SORCERER'S STONE, but I DO own the following: The Alchemist's Rock, Harold's ability to set people on fire, Dunderbore's wisdom talk with Harold, Harold's final visitor (HEHEHEHE YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHO IT IS), the feast celebrations, and Mrs. Weezy's final karate-kick of the book. ENJOY!**

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**Chapter 17: The Guy With A Second Face**

When Harold emerged into the final room, he was prepared to meet Snake and/or Moldywart on the other side. He was _not _prepared to see Professor Quiddle jumping up and down and screaming at the Window of Air Heads.

"What the hell?" said Harold.

Quiddle stopped his manic jumping and screaming and turned around. Harold waited for him to start twitching, but he didn't.

"Oh good, you're here," he said quietly, grinning. "I was starting to think you wouldn't show up."

"What?" Harold was utterly confused. "Is this a date?"

"If you want to call it that," replied Quiddle.

Harold started backing away. "You're _gay!"_

"What? _Gay?" _said Quiddle, red in the face. "I'm not gay! That's not what I meant!"

"Yes you did!" Harold was freaking out. "Go away! I'm not gay! I like girls!"

Quiddle was furious. "Shut up, Plodder! I'm not gay! It's not a date! I was merely expecting you to come and ruin my plan! Which you won't!"

Harold stopped backing away. "Wait - why are you - I thought - Snake -"

"Snake's not gay either," Quiddle told him.

"I _know_ that," said Harold, starting to get annoyed. "I meant, I thought _he _was the one who was going to be here!"

Quiddle laughed creepily, kind of like Uncle Herman laughed when he found a bug to step on. "Yeah, Samuel _does_ seem like the bad guy, doesn't he? Well, he isn't. _I _am."

Harold laughed. "Yeah right! You're not a villain!"

Quiddle frowned. "Yes I am!"

"No you're not!"

"Yes I _am!"_

"No you're not! Snake is! He tried to kill me when I played Quippish! That's not nice!" Harold shuddered at the memory.

Quiddle shook his head. "No no no, _I _tried to kill you. I never liked Quippish, I never liked you. Perfect combo. And I _would've _killed you if Snake hadn't been muttering that infernal counter curse!"

"Snake tried to save my life?" Harold's head was spinning. "He hates me!"

"Don't we all?" Quiddle rolled his eyes. "Well, whatever, I'll just kill you tonight instead." He snapped his fingers, and chains sprang up out of nowhere and wrapped themselves around Harold.

"Now just stand there and don't move while I continue to yell at this window."

"Like I can do anything else," Harold muttered. Then he realized that he _could _do something. He had to keep Quiddle talking and prevent him from concentrating on the window.

"I was stalking you and Snake in the forest!" he blurted out.

"That's nice," Quiddle murmured, walking around the window. "He suspected me by then, and kept trying to get me to confess how much I knew. And he tried to _scare_ me. Give me a break. I have _Moldywart _on my side."

He gave up pacing and just stared into the window. "I see the Rock - I'm giving it to my Master - but where -"

"But Snake hates me so much!" Harold said loudly.

"Of course he does, he had this rivalry thing with your father when they were both in school, but that doesn't mean he wants you _dead_." Quiddle started poking the window.

"But a few days ago, I heard you crying in some classroom - I thought Snake was threatening you or something -"

Quiddle looked scared for the first time.

"My Master was punishing me for something I did wrong," he whispered. "After all, I am not perfect -"

"What? He was in the classroom with you?" said Harold incredulously.

"Of course he was! He's with me wherever I go! I met him as I was traveling the world -"

"Dude, you are seriously sounding gay right now," said Harold, feeling grossed out.

"NO! I am NOT gay with Moldywart!" yelled Quiddle.

"So you admit you're gay!" cried Harold triumphantly.

"NO I'M NOT!" Quiddle roared, red in the face. "I'M TELLING YOU A STORY! SO SHUT UP!"

Harold shut up, and Quiddle continued.

"I was stupid back then. I thought about good and evil, but Moldywart taught me to think about _power. _Since then, I have been his faithful servant, but I have let him down many times. He was very angry when I failed to steal the Rock from Stringotts, and had to punish me dearly. He decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…." Quiddle trailed off, rubbing the back of his left hand nervously.

"You're crazy," said Harold. He remembered his visit to Dragon Alley. Quiddle had been there, he had shaken hands with Harold in the Squeaky Cauldron.

"Where is the Rock? Is it _inside _the window? Should I break it?" Quiddle was getting worked up again.

Harold got an idea. _What I want more than anything right now is to find the Rock before Quiddle does. And run with it, or something. So if I look in the window, I'll see myself finding it - and then I'll see where it's hidden! I'll just edge over, quiet as a ninja, and look in. _

Harold tried sliding his feet to the left, but they were tied together so tightly he couldn't move. He tried to wrench his left foot away from his right, but the result was him tripping and falling on his side, the chains clanking horribly loud. Then he rolled down the stone steps and stopped right at Quiddle's feet.

"Uh - nice feet you got there," said Harold quickly.

"My feet are awesome," said Quiddle absentmindedly. "How does this gooey contraption work? Help me, Master!"

To Harold's horror, he heard a soft, snakey voice that seemed to come from Quiddle himself.

"_Use the kid…use the kid…"_

"Alrighty then!" Quiddle clapped his hands, and the chains slipped off of Harold. "Plodder! Look in the window and tell me what you see!"

Harold stood up, shaking. _I'll lie,_ he thought desperately. _I'll just lie about what I see. How's he going to know, anyway?_

When he stepped in front of the window, he saw his reflection, pale and freaking out. But then, it changed. His reflection smiled at Harold, then bent down and took off his sneaker. It turned the sneaker upside down, and shook something into its hand. It was a crimson-colored rock. Then, the reflection put the rock back into the sneaker and put the sneaker back on its foot. As it did so, Harold felt something digging into the heel of his left foot, and his sneaker started to bulge. Somehow, _he had gotten the Rock_.

"Well?" snapped Quiddle. "What do you see?"

Harold screwed up his face. "I, uh - I see myself as the leader of a famous rock band!"

"What?" Quiddle looked suspicious.

"Wait - now it's changing - now I'm throwing Snake off a mountain! No, now I'm throwing Justin Bieber off a mountain!"

"Who's Justin Bieber?" asked Quiddle, confused.

Harold groaned. "You don't want to know. Now if that's all you need me for…." He started to back away.

"_He's lying, you idiot!"_ snarled the snakey voice.

"Plodder, get back here and tell the truth!" Quiddle looked ready to explode.

The snakey voice spoke. "_Let me face him…"_

"Master, you can't! You aren't strong enough -"

"_I am strong enough…for this…"_

Harold felt as though Quiddle had chained him to the floor, but he was just so terrified he couldn't move a muscle. He watched Quiddle slowly unwrap his turban, letting the cloth fell to the ground. What was he _doing? _Then he turned on the spot, and Harold saw…the back of his head.

"What are you showing me the back of your head for?" he protested angrily. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"I did?" said Quiddle. "Good! That's what I was aiming for!"

"_You idiot!"_ hissed the voice. _"Just let me face him!"_

Quiddle held up his left hand and thrust it towards Harold. At first Harold couldn't see anything, and wondered whether he should slap Quiddle to make sure he wasn't going insane or not. But as he looked, the skin on his palm began to move. Harold's insides froze as a small, yet terrifying face forced its way out of Quiddle's hand. It was as white as chalk, had piercing red eyes, and slits for nostrils, just like a snake. And as if that wasn't bad enough, it also had a wart on its left cheek.

"Hello, Harold Plodder," the voice hissed.

"Hey," said Harold, trying not to flee. "You have a wart on your face."

"WHY DOES EVERYBODY MENTION THAT?" roared the face.

"Because it's so gross!" Harold started backing away.

"I'll tell you what's gross," the face snarled. "Having to live inside Quiddle's sweaty hand, that's what!"

"Hey!" yelled Quiddle, but the face ignored him.

"Quiddle drank pegasus tears for me in the forest, as you saw," it continued. "It has strengthened me…I am able to share a body with a host, but I cannot sustain one on my own…but I will have one, once I have the Juice of Life…now, why don't you give me that Rock in your sneaker?"

He _knew._ Harold stumbled backward, but Quiddle followed him, still holding up his hand like a possessed person.

"Don't be an idiot," snarled the face. "You cannot escape me…if you refuse to give me the Rock, you'll end up just like your parents, who died begging for mercy -"

"You LIAR!" roared Harold, finding his voice.

"Ah, you're brave, I see," hissed Moldywart. "I value bravery…you father did put up quite a courageous fight, it's true…but your mother didn't have to die…she died protecting you from me…now give me the Rock, unless you want her to have died in vain."

"NEVER!"

"GET HIM!" roared Moldywart, and Quiddle lurched forward, grabbing Harold's wrist with his other hand. Harold's scar seared with white hot pain, but despite that, he got an idea. He raised his other arm and pinched the hand that was holding onto him.

Quiddle yelled and let go, and the pain in Harold's scar faded a little. Harold looked at Quiddle and saw him staring at the place where Harold had pinched him. It was red. No, it was _smoking_. No…it had caught on fire!

"YOU IDIOT! GET HIM! NOW!" Quiddle lunged for Harold but this time he was ready. He managed to get in five good pinches before he pulled away, screeching with pain. These marks caught on fire, too.

"Master - he's setting me on fire!" cried Quiddle, staring at the little plumes of flame uncomprehendingly.

"I DON'T CARE! KILL HIM!" screamed Moldywart. Quiddle whipped out his wand and was about to yell a curse when Harold, on instinct, leaped up and pinched his face all over. Quiddle howled and pushed him off. The pain in Harold's scar increased, but all Harold could think of was to make Quiddle feel so much pain that he wouldn't be able to utter a curse. Harold grabbed onto his arm with both hands and pinched, pinched faster and harder than he ever thought possible. The pain increased - Quiddle tried to throw him off - pinching - Quiddle on fire - "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" - "Harry! Harry!"- falling - falling - falling - blackness.

Something gold glinted above his head. The Golden Squish! Harold tried to catch it, but his arms were too heavy.

He blinked. That wasn't the Squish…it was a pair of half-moon glasses. Weird.

He blinked again. Albert Dunderbore was leaning over him, so close that their noses were almost touching.

"AAAAHHHH!" yelled Harold, jumping a few feet.

"Harold! You're awake!" cried Dunderbore, pulling up a chair.

"I am now," gasped Harold, feeling his heart beating about a hundred miles an hour. "What - why were you staring at me like that?"

"Oh, I wanted to see what you would do when you woke up," he said matter-of-factly.

"O…kay…" Harold pushed himself into a sitting position. His whole body felt like it got KO'd by Mrs. Weezy. Then suddenly, he freaked out again. "Professor! The Rock! You have to - Moldywart - the Rock! Quiddle has - you've got to -"

"Good grief, Harold, calm down!" said Dunderbore. "Quiddle doesn't have the Rock."

"Then who has it?" asked Harold.

Dunderbore looked up at the ceiling. "The stars have it, Harold."

"What?" Harold stared at him, then suddenly noticed something he hadn't before. "CANDY!"

"Yes, you're homies left you quite a stash of multicolored sweets, didn't they?" said Dunderbore, waving his arm towards the pile of candy on the bedside table. "I believe it was the Weezy twins that tried to send you a banister from one of our staircases. Unfortunately, Madam Ponchee thought it was quite against the rules, so she took it away."

"Aw man!" said Harold. "But Dunderbore…where's the Rock?"

"Even candy couldn't distract you!" Dunderbore laughed. "Okay, I'll spill. Quiddle couldn't take it from you. I got there just in time to pull him off of you. But you were doing a superb job on your own!"

"So you got Heidi's message?"

"I did. But as soon as I touched down in Boston, I heard a little voice inside my head yelling at me to go back to Pigzits." He grinned. "And as I flew back, I crashed into Heidi's owl. I took it to Hagger to revive. I hope he doesn't sit on this one."

"So - _you_ pulled him off me," said Harold, struggling to put everything together.

"Yep. I was afraid I came too late," Dunderbore replied.

"You almost did, I could barely keep Quiddle away from the Rock much longer -"

"No no no, not the Rock, _you_. All that resisting pretty much killed you. As for the Rock, it has been destroyed."

"_Destroyed?_" said Harold blankly. "But what about Nick Sleighbell? What will happen to him and his wife?"

"They'll die," said Dunderbore simply.

Harold stared at him. "But - do they want to die?"

"Harold, Harold, death is fun! It's just another epic adventure to embark on, you know. Nick and Panini are planning on going mountain climbing in the Great Beyond."

"Uh - okay then," said Harold. He stayed silent for a while. Dunderbore grabbed the Twizzlers off of Harold's bedside table and began shoving them into his mouth.

"Um, excuse me, sir?" said Harold. Dunderbore paused, a bunch of Twizzlers hanging out of his mouth. "Even if the Rock is gone, Mol-, I mean, That Guy -"

"Call him Moldywart, Harold," mumbled Dunderbore around the Twizzlers. "It doesn't matter if people laugh at his name. He's an evil guy, so we should teach him some humiliation."

"Um…okay. Moldywart's gonna try to come back to life in other ways, right? Because he's not dead."

"No, he's not dead, just out there biding his time," Dunderbore mused. "He can't be killed, since he's not truly alive. He let Quiddle die, because he doesn't respect his followers at all. He doesn't respect anyone, really."

Harold nodded, but wished he hadn't because his head started pounding. "Dunderbore, I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want truthful answers."

"Oooh, like a game show!" Dunderbore clapped his hands. "I saw that on Shmuggle TV once. Fire away, but keep in mind that I might not be able to answer some of the questions."

"Why did Moldywart want to kill me anyway? He only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me."

Dunderbore sighed. "I can't tell you that yet."

"Why not?"

"Because. You're too young to ingest that information just yet. You are only a seed just placed in the ground. Let us water you and nourish you, and once you become a beautiful flower you'll be ready to know." He pulled a mini watering can out of his robes and trickled water onto Harold's head.

"What are you doing?" Harold knocked the watering can away.

Dunderbore's eyes widened. "You've knocked away the Watering Can of Fate. Mother Nature will curse you, Harold Plodder! You'll never be able to grow any eggplants for the rest of your life!"

"What? I hate eggplants!" Harold was so confused.

"CURSE YOU, HAROLD PLODDER! Now, any more questions?"

"Uh - what? Oh…oh yeah! Why did my epic pinching skills cause Quiddle to catch on fire?"

Dunderbore laughed. "That was so totally awesome, by the way. Both your mother and father had epic pinching skills, too. They got passed down to you. That's called genetics. But the fire part came from your mother. Since she died to save you, she gave you protection from the evil people. Moldywart knows nothing about the power of love. He knows about the power of hate and killing, which is extremely unhealthy, I must say. Quiddle was full of greed and ungratefulness, so when you pinched him, he caught on fire. The end."

"Sweet!" said Harold. "But who gave me the Invisibility Blankie?"

"Ahh, the Blankie!" cried Dunderbore happily. "Your father left that with me before he died. Pretty awesome, isn't it? I think he used it to stalk the girls' bathroom. And steal food. Little things like that."

"Okay," Harold grinned, having no trouble imagining another version of himself raiding the kitchens. "How about this - why does Professor Snake hate my father?"

"I have no idea - it's like those little rivalries you kids have, like you and Snalfoy. And plus, you're father saved his life when they were both in school."

"He _did?_"

"Yep. And that infuriated him. I'm thinking Samuel worked so hard to protect you this year so that he and Jimmy would be even, and then he can go back to hating him without that debt hanging over his head."

"Okay. I have one more question."

Dunderbore grinned. "Just one more?"

"Yes. How did I get the Rock out of the window?"

Dunderbore clapped his hands. "I'm so glad you asked me that question, Harold! This is my awesome hippie brain speaking right here." Dunderbore sat cross-legged on the chair and raised his hands like he was meditating. "You see, only the lucky ducky who wanted to find the Rock, but not use it, would be able to get it out of the window. Don't you just love my hippie brain? I wish I could give it a hug, but squeezing it like that would probably kill me." He reached over to Harold's pile of sweets, sifted through it (which cause a whole bunch of boxes and baggies to fall onto the floor), and pulled out a brightly colored box. "Check it out! Birdy Blott's Every Flavor Gummies! My oh my, it's been years since I had one of these, after someone forced me to eat a frog-flavored one." He shuddered. "Well, let's try again, shall we? Hmm, this one looks pretty nice." He popped it into his mouth, and his face squeezed up like it was lemon flavor.

But it wasn't.

"Oh! Wasabi! Ah…ahhh…AAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

After Dunderbore left screaming for a glass of water, Madam Ponchee let Don and Heidi see Harold.

"Five minutes!" she instructed them. "And Harold, if you want to heal before the feast, you better not move anything but your mouth until then!"

Don and Heidi approached his bed, looking extremely relieved.

"Dude, we thought you were dead or something!" Don breathed. "I was all ready to throw flowers on your corpse!"

"Shut up, Don!" snapped Heidi. "Of course he wasn't going to die." Although she looked relieved too.

"Nope, I'm still here." Harold grinned.

"Tell us a story! Tell us a story!" Don and Heidi begged.

So Harold began. He told them everything that they had missed - Quiddle, the window, the Rock, and Moldywart. They were a very good audience - they gasped in all the right places, screamed when Harold described Moldywart's appearance on Quiddle's hand, and laughed at how his pinching skills set Quiddle on fire.

"So the Rock's gone?" said Don in disbelief.

"Yep. As Dunderbore says, it's sleeping with the stars," Harold replied, smiling.

"He's insane, isn't he?" Don looked happy that his hero was losing it. "Still, too bad about the Rock, right? I've always wanted to live forever -"

"DON!"

"Just kidding," he said quickly. "Look, Harold, you better be able to come to the feast with us. Hisserin won - you missed the last Quippish game, we got crushed by Gladenstraw without you, but it's all amazing food, right?"

"And eating with your friends is the most important thing," said Heidi, giving Don a hug.

Don looked terrified. "Harold! Heidi's gone sentimental! AAAHHH!" He jumped up out of the seat and raced out, Heidi chasing him with her arms outstretched.

Harold felt almost normal after a good night's sleep.

"Can I go to the feast? Please? Can I can I can I?" he begged Madam Ponchee.

"Professor Dunderbore says that you are allowed to go," she answered slowly, pursing her lips. Apparently she wanted to keep Harold in bed and antisocial. "So I guess you are well enough. And by the way, you have another visitor."

"HAROLD!" wailed a voice, and Harold saw Hagger stumbling in the room, tears rolling down his face. "I'm so sorry!"

"What - Hagger? Why -"

"I told that idiot how to get past Puffy!" he gasped. "It was the only thing he didn't know, and I told him! I nearly got yeh killed! I'll never drink again! I'll live alone forever! I'll never -"

"Hagger! Calm down!" said Harold, shocked and a little scared to see Hagger in such a state. "He would've found out some other way, it's not your fault, this is Moldywart we're talking about!"

"Don't say the name!"

"MOLDYWART!" yelled Harold, and Hagger started laughing - hysterically, it seemed, but laughing all the same. When he calmed down, Harold went on. "Look, everything's fine now, the Rock is gone and Moldywart's gone for now, so cheer up and have a Chocolate Hog."

Hagger took five Chocolate Hogs and stuffed them in his mouth. "By the way, I got yeh a present," he mumbled, spraying chocolate everywhere.

"Really? What is it?" said Harold excitedly.

Hagger took a square-ish wrapped gift out of his coat. "Dunderbore let me take the day off yesterday to fix this for yeh. He really shoulda fired me and threw me down a well, but I'm glad he didn't. Anyway, here yeh go."

Harold ripped off the wrapping paper to reveal a smooth, leather book. He opened it up and slowly flipped through the pages, which were full of pictures. And in each picture were Harold's parents.

"I sent owls to old family friends, askin' for pictures," said Hagger. "I thought you wouldn't have any…do you like it?"

Harold started to cry, and Hagger understood.

Harold was walking out the door to go to the feast when Madam Ponchee stopped him.

"I thought you said I could go?" cried Harold unhappily.

"I did! But you have one more visitor."

"What? Who?" Harold couldn't remember anyone else important that hadn't come to see him.

"He's coming in right now," said Madam Ponchee, and she turned around and went back to her office.

As Harold turned back to the doorway, he saw a man walk in. He had short brown hair, dark skin, and was wearing a suit. He was also smiling. His tie was patterned with the American flag.

"Hello, Harold Plodder," said the man, taking Harold's hand and shaking it enthusiastically.

"Um, hi…who are you?"

"Why, I'm Barack Obama." said the man.

"_Who?_" Harold was pretty sure he didn't know any Barack Obama's.

"I am the President of the United States," said Barack Obama.

"Oh…Nice to meet you?"

Barack Obama got down on one knee in front of Harold. "Now, Harold, I want you to remember something."

"Dude, what are you doing -"

Barack Obama looked Harold straight in the eye. "Remember - all things are possible!"

"What?" said Harold.

Barack Obama exploded.

"Where'd all that confetti come from?" asked Madam Ponchee, coming out of her office.

"Barack Obama," said Harold, watching the confetti fall to the floor.

"Who?"

Harold ran down to the feast, leaving Madam Ponchee to clean up the confetti.

When Harold got into the Great Dining Room, it was already full and decked out in the Hisserin decorations. As he made his way to the Diffindor table, the hall fell silent, and all the students started whispering and pointing at him.

"It's rude to point, you know!" Harold said loudly, and sat down between Don and Heidi.

"Quite right, young Harold," said Dunderbore from the High Table, jumping up from his seat. "And welcome to the last day of school, all you people!"

A chorus of cheers rose from the four House tables.

"Yes, yes, and before we sink our teeth into this awesome dinner, I must award the House Cup! Here are the standings: in fourth place is Diffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Snufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; in second, Gladenstraw, with four hundred and twenty-six points; and in first, Hisserin, with four hundred and seventy-two."

The Hisserin table yelled and stamped their feet with triumph. Harold noticed Snalfoy banging his glass on the table. It was not a pleasant sight.

Dunderbore cleared his throat. "Now now, before Hisserin gets all hyper, recent events must be taken into account!"

The Hisserins stopped yelling abruptly. Harold grinned at Snalfoy's new nervous expression.

"I have just a few more points to dish out," said Dunderbore, bouncing a little. He turned and faced the Diffindor table. "First, to a Mister Don Weezy -"

Don's face went redder than Harold had ever seen it before. Kind of like a tomato on steroids.

"-for the best played game of Wizard Monopoly Pigzits has ever seen, I award this dude fifty points."

The Diffindors cheered and stamped their feet; Henry was in his element again, screaming, "My youngest brother, yes him, he got past McGummable's giant Monopoly board!"

Finally there was silence again.

"Second," said Dunderbore, picking up a piece of bread and stroking it, "to a Miss Heidi Grace, for being super smart and having the ability to solve riddles, I give her fifty points."

Heidi burst into tears, putting her head in her arms. The Diffindors were freaking out and screaming. They were a hundred points up.

"Third - to a Mister Harold Plodder -" the room became silent "-for pure courage, humor, basically saving the world again, and a bunch of other traits that I'm too lazy to mention, I award him sixty points!"

The Diffindors were screaming so loudly that the silverware shook. They were now tied with Hisserin - if only Dunderbore had given them just one more point…

Dunderbore waved his arm, and everyone quieted down. "Now, listen up, for this is a valuable lesson," he announced, wagging his finger. "It takes plenty of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but it takes a whole different kind of bravery to stand up to your friends. Therefore, I award ten points to a Mister Nelson Wrongbottom."

If someone had been standing outside the Great Dining Room at that moment, they would have run away screaming with their arms over their head, thinking that an explosion had took place. Every student at the Diffindor table jumped out of their seats, roaring, and engulfed Nelson in a purple wave. Nelson had never won a point for Diffindor before, let alone ten. Harold grabbed Don and pointed towards Snalfoy, who was screaming, horrified, and banging his glass so hard that it smashed everywhere.

"WHICH MEANS -" yelled Dunderbore above the noise, for even the Snufflepuffs and the Gladenstraws were celebrating Hisserin's defeat. "WE SEEM TO NEED A CHANGE OF DECORATION!"

He waved his wand, and the green and silver banners changed to red and gold; the Hisserin cobra was replaced with the Diffindor tiger, and the whole Great Dining Room seemed to roar. Harold saw Snake shaking Professor McGummable's hand with a creepish forced smile. His eyes met Harold's, and he knew that Snake's feelings towards him hadn't changed a bit. But Harold didn't care.

As Harold watched Dunderbore stuffing his face with Twizzlers, Snalfoy burying his head in his hands, Nelson emerging from the crowd of people, and Heidi punching Don for stepping on her foot, he realized that this was the best evening of his life.

The exam results came the next day, and both Harold and Don passed with good grades. Heidi, of course, had the highest grades out of all the first years, despite her past mental breakdowns from exam stress. Even Nelson made it through okay, his great Herbology grade making up for his bad Potions one. Don was crossing his fingers that Boyle had failed everything, but unfortunately he passed too. "Well, you can't have everything in life," said Don.

And suddenly, their suitcases were packed, Helga was safely in her cage while Nelson chased Warty the toad all over Diffindor Tower for twenty minutes. Professor McGummable handed every student a paper that warned them not to use magic over vacation ("I always hope they forget to give us these things," said Ed with a sigh). Hagger helped them get their things into the boats, and they sailed across the lake for the last time. They got on the purple subway and spent the journey talking, laughing, and discovering new flavors of Birdy Blott's Every Flavor Beans, finally changing out of their purple wizard's robes and into Shmuggle clothes. All too soon, the subway pulled into Platform Five and Six-Sevenths.

It took a while for every student to cross through the barrier. A magical ticket guard had a way of watching the Shmuggle side of the station, and let the them go through in twos and threes. When Harold asked why, Heidi told him that a whole bunch of crazy teenagers carrying suitcases and animals and emerging from a solid wall would give the Shmuggles nightmares.

"You two are both coming over this summer," announced Don after they went through the barrier. "I'll send you an owl - hopefully he won't faint on the journey or something."

"That'll be fun!" said Harold. "I'll need something to look forward to."

They strolled through the crowd of Shmuggles, looking for their families. As Pigzits students passed Harold, they called out good-byes.

"Later, Harold!"

"See ya, Plodder!"

"Thanks for saving the world again!"

"Still famous," said Don, grinning.

"Not where I'm going, trust me," said Harold.

"Mom! Look! There he is, right there!"

It was Winnie Weezy. She was jumping up and down with excitement, but she wasn't pointing at Don.

"Harold Plodder!" she squeaked. "He's right there, Mom! I heard he saved the world again, look at him -"

"Oh, shush, Winnie, and it's rude to point," said Mrs. Weezy, and smiled down at the three of them. "How was school? Busy?"

"Very busy," said Harold, grinning. "Thanks for the sweatpants, Mrs. Weezy, they're very warm and fuzzy. And the fudge balls were delicious!"

"You're very welcome, dear." Mrs. Weezy grabbed Winnie's hand to prevent her from poking Harold's head. "Did you like how I knitted the name on the butt part? I think it gives them a nice touch, don't you think?"

"I loved it!" cried Harold, imagining what his aunt and uncle would do when they saw his awesome homemade sweatpants.

"Are you ready yet?"

Uncle Herman was standing over Harold, looking furious to see his nephew carrying a suitcase and a large snowy owl in a cage in front of all the pedestrians. Behind him were Aunt Pansy, pursing her lips, and Spudley, looking terrified and clutching his brand new plastic-surgery-nose.

"You must be Harold's family!" said Mrs. Weezy, smiling uneasily.

"If you want to call it that," grumbled Uncle Herman. "Come on, boy, we haven't got all day." He started to walk away, but Don ran over and gave him a big hug.

Uncle Herman yelped and tried to shake him off. "Aaargh - you! What are you -"

"I'M HUGGING A SHMUGGLE! I'M HUGGING A SHMUGGLE!" yelled Don, so that everyone in the vincity turned around and stared.

"LET GO OF ME, YOU LITTLE -"

"Okay." Don let go and hid behind his mother. Uncle Herman started forward with his hands outstretched, but Mrs. Weezy let out a fearsome, "HI-YAH!" and kicked him in the, well, let's not go there. Uncle Herman howled and staggered back to Aunt Pansy and Spudley, while Harold, Don, and Heidi fell over laughing. Finally, they calmed down enough to say goodbye.

"Have a - um - good vacation, Harold," said Heidi, glancing after Uncle Herman and looking shocked at meeting such an unpleasant person. "I hope you don't get in trouble for that."

"Oh, don't worry," said Harold, and Don and Heidi were surprised to see the smirk spreading across his face. "_They_ have no idea that I can't use magic during vacation. I'm gonna have a lot of fun with Spudley this summer…."

* * *

**TADAAAAA! Ohmygoodness I'm so sad that this is over! Good thing I'm gonna write the second one! :D Thank you for being such an amazing audience (wait, this isnt a movie...) for being such amazing READERS, and thank you to AnnaAza for reviewing every single chapter! :O DEDICATION BABY! YAAAY! and thank you to stuckinadream and Melikecake for the ideas and for being such great buds! Until the next fanfic...TO INFINITY, AND BEYOND! PSSSSSSHSHHHHHHHHHHYOOO! *rises into sky***


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